


Desperate Measures

by MiaCooper



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Feels, Conspiracy, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Post-Endgame, Section 31
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-06-22 02:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 101,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15571896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/pseuds/MiaCooper
Summary: They’re home… but it’s not what they hoped for. Estranged by circumstance and misunderstanding and kept apart by devious design,Voyager’s former command team is drawn into a world of danger, deception and political intrigue that could end up costing their lives.** Now complete **





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleObsessions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleObsessions/gifts), [Helen8462](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helen8462/gifts), [Caladenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caladenia/gifts), [Elliemayday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elliemayday/gifts).



> Dedicated with thanks to Helen8462 for her tireless and thoughtful betaing on this behemoth, and to LittleObsessions and Caladenia who also betaed early drafts and encouraged me. Thanks also to the _Voyager_ Book Club discord members  <3
> 
> Dedicated also to Elliemayday for leaving the kind of reviews fic writers live for, and for this gorgeous image she created:
> 
> For the purposes of this story, the events in the _Voyager_ Relaunch novels and any of the other Pocket Books set post- _Endgame_ didn’t happen. And if anyone’s interested, I’ve used [this amazingly detailed map](http://www.sttff.net/AST_MAP.html) as a reference for the locations in the story.

Hold your breath and count to ten.  
Fall apart, start again.  
– Placebo, _English Summer Rain_  
  


* * *

  
  


**_Prologue: Homecoming_**  
_December, 2377_  
  
They’d burst into the Alpha quadrant two hours earlier and were just entering the Sol system, having been officially cleared by Admiral Paris. Kathryn was in her ready room; he was sure she was frantically collating reports, ready for the debriefings they assumed would be starting once the crew had been welcomed back into the bosom of their families. Chakotay pressed the chime and waited for her distracted reply to enter.  
  
“Commander,” she greeted him absently, shuffling through padds on her desk. “Have you seen the latest crew evaluation report? I could swear I left it right here.”  
  
He shook his head, laughing. “Kathryn, leave it. There’ll be plenty of time to worry about reports.” He moved up close, placing a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him, stilling her movements. “We’re home,” he said, smiling down at her. “I’m sure you can spare a few minutes to enjoy it.”  
  
To his surprise, the corners of her mouth barely turned upward. She seemed to be searching his face for something; he wasn’t sure what. But he had almost seven years’ worth of practice at handling Kathryn, at getting her to open up. Run at her head-on and she’d retreat. She needed to be cajoled.  
  
“Have you met the baby yet?”  
  
“No,” and another expression flitted over her face and was gone. “No, I haven’t. I’m sure Tom and B’Elanna would like some time alone with her.”  
  
“They’d love you to meet her. Come with me,” he entreated. His hand slid down from her shoulder, catching hers.  
  
He felt the moment she tensed, and her hand pulled out of his grasp. “It’ll have to wait. Pass on my best wishes, will you?”  
  
To hell with cajolery. “Kathryn, what’s wrong?”  
  
“I’m extremely busy,” she said tightly, turning her back on him. “Why don’t you take Seven?”  
  
Chakotay’s stomach tightened. “You know,” he stated, though he couldn’t imagine now how he’d ever thought it would stay a secret.  
  
“Of course.” Her voice was light now, breezy, but she still wasn’t facing him. “Congratulations. I’m sure the two of you will be very happy.”  
  
He couldn’t seem to find words.  
  
“I imagine you two will want to visit Trebus as soon as debriefings are over. Maybe even settle there – I know how keen you are to see how the rebuilding is coming along. You will keep in touch, won’t you?”  
  
_Keep in touch?_ Chakotay wanted to be sick.  
  
“What are your plans?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.  
  
“A long vacation in Indiana with my family. After that, who knows? Wherever Starfleet sends me, I suppose.”  
  
“What about us?”  
  
“The Maquis? I’m sure Starfleet will welcome you with open arms as soon as they’ve read the crew evals. If I can ever find the damn things, that is.”  
  
“I wasn’t talking about the Maquis,” he said quietly.  
  
“Hmm? Ah!” Kathryn turned finally, giving him a brief smile as she held up a padd. “Found it. Excuse me, I need to have Harry send this to HQ.”  
  
She strode quickly for the door.  
  
She was just going to leave, he realised. They’d part as soon as _Voyager_ reached Earth, and he might never see her again.  
  
And she seemed to want it that way.  
  
“ _Kathryn_.”  
  
She stopped, turned back to him, her eyebrows raised. “Commander?”  
  
He calmed his voice with effort. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Seven. It’s just – new, and we didn’t want to ... And you and I …”  
  
“You and I what?” she asked, but there was a warning in her tone.  
  
Chakotay waved a hand in frustration. “Are you really going to stand there and pretend there’s nothing between us? That there couldn’t have been something incredible?”  
  
She said nothing.  
  
“I always hoped that when we got home,” he walked slowly toward her, “we’d get the chance to –”  
  
“Stop,” she said abruptly, holding up a hand to ward him off. “Commander, this isn’t the time or the place for this discussion.”  
  
“When is it the time, then?” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’ve been dancing around this for seven years, Kathryn!”  
  
“Then it’s a good thing we can get some distance from each other now,” she fired back. “It’ll help you regain a little perspective. I’m sure I’ll see you again once you’ve spent some time with your sister and – and Seven.”  
  
She turned her back on him and moved quickly toward the door, leaving him almost too stunned to speak. Almost.  
  
“Well, don’t be a stranger,” he called after her, bitterness lacing his tone.  
  
_Too late for that_ , he thought.  
  
She stopped again, turned, frozen-faced. “Is there something else you want to say to me, Commander?”  
  
Chakotay studied her: steel-grey eyes, firm mouth, straight shoulders. There was no trace of Kathryn, his friend, his once-might-have-been. Only the captain.  
  
“No,” he said slowly. “Nothing at all.”  
  
She turned and left without another word.


	2. Coercion

Resentment rides high,  
But emotions won’t grow  
And we’re changing our ways  
Taking different roads.  
– Joy Division, _Love Will Tear Us Apart_

* * *

  
  
**_Chapter One: Coercion_**  
_February, 2378_  
  
  
“You’re _blackmailing_ me?”  
  
If she’d spent the past seven years in the Delta quadrant serving under the auburn-haired captain with the laser-sharp eyes, Fleet Admiral Nyla Kjogo might have taken heed of the steely undertone in Kathryn Janeway’s voice. As she hadn’t – and as she considered herself impervious to intimidation, having been hailed as a several-time hero of the Dominion War – she ignored it.  
  
“It’s not blackmail, Captain. It’s a promotion. And I suggest you accept it with a great deal more graciousness than you’ve displayed to date.”  
  
Kathryn planted her hands on her hips, staring down at the tall, voluptuous Tandaran seated behind her equally imposing desk. “It’s not just a promotion, Admiral. You want me to sell my soul to Starfleet’s PR machine.”  
  
“Must you reduce this to basics? We’re offering you the opportunity of a lifetime, Kathryn. Why choose to see it as some kind of underhanded deal?”  
  
“For the past two months,” Kathryn answered slowly, her voice dangerously low, “you have kept me confined to this building, refused to allow me contact with my crew, grudgingly allowed me rare and brief visits from my family, and questioned me to the point of interrogation. And now you inform me that I’m being cleared of all possible charges and promoted to the admiralty, but only if I’ll agree to be Starfleet’s poster girl. If that isn’t underhanded, Admiral, what would _you_ call it?”  
  
“I’d call it a win-win situation. After all, Kathryn, in your new role you’ll have fame, freedom and the ability to influence billions of people. Including the judiciary in charge of hearings for the more … _problematic_ members of your former crew.”  
  
Kathryn went still. “Meaning?”  
  
“Maquis terrorists, liberated Borg drones, an ex-convict, a hologram with delusions of sentience, and a handful of genocidal Starfleet traitors. You really brought home a passel of problem children, didn’t you, Kathryn? And while I’m sure they all became upstanding members of your crew out in the wilds of the Delta quadrant, things are a little different here. Just how well do you think the average Federation citizen in these post-war, post-Changeling times will take to those who are a little bit different?”  
  
Kathryn folded her arms and stared at her.  
  
“Of course,” Kjogo went on calmly, “if they had a spokesperson – a sponsor, of sorts – to look out for their best interests, I’m sure acceptance would come a lot more easily. And what better champion than their heroic former captain and the jewel in Starfleet’s public relations crown?” She watched the younger woman for a moment. “On the other hand, a maverick captain who’s spent seven years marching to the beat of her own drum and making her own, often questionable, decisions … well, _she_ wouldn’t do them much good at all.”  
  
“I see,” Kathryn said evenly. “Are Admirals Paris and Hayes aware of these terms?”  
  
“Admiral Paris has expressed his desire to see his son and daughter-in-law excused from any possible criminal or military prosecution. Admiral Hayes has recently been appointed head of the Strategic Command Division and is currently engaged with the Tholian problem.” Kjogo folded her hands on the desk before her. “Your promotion – and its terms – have been sanctioned by both Commander-in-Chief Shanthi and President Zife, Captain. You would be wise to accept.”  
  
Kathryn studied her. Fleet Admiral Nyla Kjogo was an unknown quantity, but as the chief of the Office of Starfleet Communications, and now that debriefings had finally finished, the Tandaran woman was firmly in charge of the public reintroduction of _Voyager_ ‘s crew to Federation society. Kathryn could understand why the admiral wanted to put the most positive spin possible on _Voyager_ ’s return.  
  
What she couldn’t understand was why that meant serving her up to the media on a platter; something that was apparently important enough not only to Admiral Kjogo, but to Starfleet’s Commander-in-Chief and the Federation President, that they had seen fit to resort to blackmail. And despite Kjogo’s demurrals, blackmail was exactly what this was.  
  
But Kathryn had some terms of her own.  
  
“If the Starfleet Judiciary sees fit to prosecute the former Maquis on my crew for actions they took prior to our being stranded halfway across the galaxy, rest assured that I will employ every tactic at my disposal – including garnering pubic support – to ensure they never serve a day in prison. Lieutenant Paris has also more than served his original sentence and should be immediately pardoned, reinstated and promoted.”  
  
Kjogo raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Seven of Nine cannot possibly be held responsible for acts she effected while part of the Borg Collective. Since her emancipation she has repeatedly proven herself invaluable to my crew and has saved the ship and all our lives on numerous occasions. As for Icheb, he was freed from assimilation shortly after emerging from a maturation chamber. He is a fine, intelligent young man whom I’ve sponsored for entry to Starfleet Academy.”  
  
Kjogo leaned back in her chair.  
  
“The Doctor,” Kathryn continued, “has evolved over his seven years of active service, and I consider him not only the finest physician I’ve ever known, but a close friend. Should he be required to prove his sentient status in a Federation court, I would be the first to offer testimony on his behalf.”  
  
Kjogo tapped her fingers on her armrest.  
  
“As for the _Equinox_ crew,” Kathryn took in a breath, knowing this was the most difficult case to sell, “you cannot have any idea what it was like to be stranded so far from home with very little hope of ever getting back. Those five crewmen were led by a captain who had abandoned his principles. I don’t condone what they did – as you’d be aware from my logs, they were stripped of their ranks when they joined _Voyager_ – but they’ve been punished enough. They should be allowed to continue serving in Starfleet with the opportunity to rejoin the officers’ ranks.”  
  
At that, Kjogo leaned forward. “Are you quite finished, Captain?”  
  
“For now.”  
  
“Then let me explain what will happen next. Your Maquis, including Tom Paris, will be pardoned and allowed to retain their commissions, and those you recommend for promotion will receive it. The female Borg will be engaged as a civilian consultant to whichever branch of the Sciences Division she prefers. The male Borg will enrol in Starfleet Academy. The Emergency Medical Hologram will be granted sentient status and allowed to keep his portable holoemitter on the proviso that he remain in Starfleet service and allow our scientists to study the emitter. The _Equinox_ crew will be honourably discharged.” She held up a hand as Kathryn started to protest. “That’s the best I can do, Kathryn. As for you, I’ll expect you at Cochrane Hall at 1800 hours for your promotion ceremony, wearing a dress uniform and a smile.”  
  
“Admiral –”  
  
“You have your orders, Captain. Don’t make me rescind them. You won’t like the results.”  
  
Deciding on a change of tactic, Kathryn eased into the seat opposite Kjogo’s desk and softened her voice. “Admiral, I’m fully prepared to offer Starfleet-approved statements to the media about _Voyager_ ’s journey, and to pose for the occasional PR photo. But we’ve been away from home for seven years, and I assure you that those seven years were no picnic. Surely you can understand that my crew and I would like to spend some time with friends and family before returning to active service?”  
  
“Of course. Which is why I’ve arranged for three days’ rest and recuperation before your first public appearance. I suggest you use some of that time to update your hairstyle and wardrobe.”  
  
It was rare for Kathryn Janeway to find herself speechless.  
  
Kjogo handed her a padd. “This details your schedule for the next two weeks. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging a small staff for you, including stylist, masseuse, make-up artist, personal security and executive aide.” She looked Kathryn over with a critical eye and took the padd back. “And I’m adding a personal trainer.  You’ll need to shed a couple of kilograms – the camera is unforgiving, you know. Now,” Kjogo stood, holding out the padd, “do we have an agreement?”  
  
Outmanoeuvred and out of options, Kathryn placed her thumbprint on the padd.

* * *

  
  
“What are we all doing in here?” Harry Kim asked apprehensively as _Voyager_ ’s crew were ushered into the large auditorium.  
  
“No idea,” muttered Tom Paris, holding his tiny, grumbling daughter close, “but they’d better make it snappy. Miral’s due for a feed in the next few minutes, and nobody gets between a Klingon and her dinner.”  
  
“Hand her over.” B’Elanna Torres slipped into the next seat and held out her arms for Tom to place their daughter carefully into them. She fumbled awkwardly with the fastenings of her jacket. “Anybody know why we were told to wear these damn dress uniforms? They’re not made for breastfeeding mothers, I can tell you that much.”  
  
Harry pointed to the doors. “Looks like we’re about to find out what’s going on.”  
  
A pair of security officers entered the room, followed by a tall, olive-skinned Tandaran woman wearing fleet admiral insignia. She strode to the low dais at the front of the room and held up her hands for silence. The murmur of conversation died down.  
  
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am Fleet Admiral Nyla Kjogo of the Office of Communications. I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re here, so let me enlighten you. As of this moment, you are all free to leave this facility.”  
  
The murmurs started up again, and Kjogo raised her hand.  
  
“I’m sure you have many questions, and my aides and I will endeavour to answer them, but please hold them until I’ve finished. You’ve been held here these past weeks partly as a quarantine measure and partly to ensure Starfleet Command had a complete understanding of the details of your mission in the Delta quadrant, particularly any contentious matters, prior to releasing information to the general public. I thank you all for your patience and apologise that your contact with your friends and families has been limited, but it was a necessary security measure.”  
  
The _Voyager_ crew remained silent, waiting.  
  
“With regard to your status,” the admiral continued, “those of you whom Captain Janeway granted field commissions will retain them, and Starfleet welcomes you into its ranks. I’m also authorised to offer positions within Starfleet to your civilian crewmembers, but these will be discussed in private with the individuals concerned.”  
  
Tom Paris had been glancing around the auditorium, and at Kjogo’s words he nudged Harry. “Where are Gilmore and Lessing and the others?”  
  
Harry frowned. “I don’t see them.”  
  
“Finally,” Admiral Kjogo concluded smoothly, “allow me to extend our official welcome home. If there are no questions, I’d like to invite you to attend a ceremony in Cochrane Hall in thirty minutes.”  
  
She stepped back and began moving toward the door.  
  
“Excuse me, Admiral.”  
  
A flash of irritation crossed Kjogo’s patrician face as she turned back to Tom, who’d risen from his seat. “Yes?”  
  
“Lieutenant Tom Paris, sir. We seem to be missing five of our number. May I enquire as to their whereabouts?”  
  
“I assume you’re referring to the crewmen your captain retrieved from the USS _Equinox_. They have been excused from service and escorted to their places of residence. Now, if there’s nothing else?” She barely paused. “Good. Then I’ll expect to see you all in half an hour.”  
  
The door clicked shut behind Kjogo and her lieutenants.  
  
“What the hell?” B’Elanna demanded as she stood, holding Miral close. “They interrogate us for two months with no explanation, barely let us contact anyone from the outside world, refuse to let us see the captain, and now we’re just … free to go?”  
  
“Not exactly the homecoming any of us expected.” Harry was scowling. “I wonder if Tuvok knows anything. He’s the only one who’s been allowed to leave until now.”  
  
“They shipped him straight off to Vulcan, and nobody’s heard from him since,” Tom pointed out. “I’m more worried about the captain. Even Chakotay hasn’t been allowed to see her.”  
  
B’Elanna snorted. “Maybe she just didn’t _want_ to see him.”  
  
“B’Elanna,” sighed Tom. They’d been through this.  
  
“Speak of the _petaQ_ ,” B’Elanna growled, turning away as the first officer made his way through the milling crew toward them. “And his _chaj_ ,” she added, spotting Seven of Nine’s perfect blonde chignon in Chakotay’s wake.  
  
“Be nice, honey,” Tom muttered under his breath.  
  
“Commander,” Harry called as Chakotay and Seven approached. “Any idea what’s going on, sir?”  
  
“Not yet, but I intend to find out.” Chakotay rested a hand on his shoulder. “Tom, B’Elanna.”  
  
B’Elanna ignored him.  
  
“I guess we’re not the only ones thinking our sudden freedom seems too good to be true,” Tom remarked hastily to divert attention from his wife’s lack of response. “And what’s this ceremony that admiral mentioned? Our welcome-home party?”  
  
“Doubtful,” Seven interjected. “According to my studies of the Federation database, Cochrane Hall has traditionally been reserved for military ceremonies. It is unlikely to be the site of such an informal occasion.”  
  
“Well, the last military ceremony I attended as a guest of honour was a court-martial,” Tom quipped. “So let’s hope that’s not what we’re in for.”  
  
“If anyone could manage to go from a full pardon to a court-martial in less than an hour, it’d be you,” Chakotay smirked.  
  
“Have you seen the captain yet, sir?” Harry asked anxiously.  
  
All trace of good humour washed from Chakotay’s face. “Not since we disembarked.” _Before then, actually_ , he amended silently. And it hadn’t exactly been the conversation such a joyous occasion should have warranted.  
  
He found himself resting his palm on Seven’s waist. B’Elanna growled under her breath and stalked away.  
  
“Don’t mind her,” Tom said, deliberately averting his gaze. “She’s just … concerned for the captain.”  
  
“As are we,” Seven interjected.  
  
Tom and Harry exchanged a glance that made Seven’s eyebrow rise and Chakotay’s back stiffen. “Do you two have something to say to us?” he asked pointedly.  
  
“No, sir,” Tom answered smartly. “We have nothing to say to you. Sir.”  
  
“You disapprove of our romantic relationship,” Seven deduced. “Clearly, so does Lieutenant Torres.”  
  
Harry scratched nervously at the back of his neck. “It’s none of our business, Seven.”  
  
“You’re right, Harry.” The first officer’s voice was low and dangerous. “It _is_ none of your business. But if anyone thinks they should have an opinion on the matter, they should feel free to bring it to me first.”  
  
“Understood, sir,” Tom drawled. “Excuse me. I need to go find my wife.”  
  
Harry flicked a sheepish glance over his shoulder as he trailed after his friend.

* * *

  
  
“Captain! Over here! Captain Janeway!”  
  
Kathryn turned obligingly in the direction of the voice, smile fixed on her face. Lights flashed, blinding her.  
  
An audio-recorder was thrust under her nose. “Captain, how does it feel to be home after so many years?”  
  
“Wonderful,” she answered. “I’m thrilled to –”  
  
“And your crew – how are they settling in?” another reporter called.  
  
“They’re doing fine.” She’d kill to actually know that for sure. “They’re an exemplary cr–”  
  
“What’s going to happen to _Voyager_ now that you’re home?”  
  
“I’ve been told she’s undergoing a refit. I’m sure Starfleet will find an appropriate mission –”  
  
“What are you going to do next?” asked an excited young Trill, shoving her recorder in Kathryn’s face.  
  
“All right, people, that’s enough for today.” Lieutenant Tora Jens, the young, dark-haired aide who’d been assigned to Kathryn barely three hours earlier, stepped politely in front of the still-flashing cameras. “You wouldn’t want Captain Janeway to be late for her own promotion ceremony, would you?”  
  
The reporters laughed good-naturedly as Jens took Kathryn’s elbow and steered her up the steps and into Cochrane Hall.  
  
“Thanks,” Kathryn murmured. “I wasn’t expecting any press tonight. How did they know where I’d be?”  
  
Jens smiled. “Admiral Kjogo knows how to make the most of a PR opportunity. You’d better get used to it, Captain – or should I say, Admiral? You’re big news.”  
  
“Are they always so eager? I couldn’t finish a sentence out there.”  
  
“You’re a good-news story, ma’am,” Jens replied. “You make a nice change from reporting on post-war devastation in the Demilitarised Zone or the rise of piracy in the Borderlands.”  
  
She beckoned to the stylist hovering anxiously a couple of metres away, and the young man scurried up in relief, immediately pulling out a comb and attacking Kathryn’s slightly-mussed bob.  
  
Kathryn tried not to flinch at either the comb or the _ma’am_. “Piracy?” she asked Jens.  
  
“Well, with Starfleet ranks so thinned out from the war, we haven’t had the manpower to keep the Orion Syndicate or the Ferengi traders contained to their usual routes, and some of the unallied trade worlds have also taken the opportunity to expand their influence. But I’m sure you’ll be fully briefed on all that and more in the coming weeks.” The young woman waved the stylist away. “We’d better go or you really will be late.”  
  
The imposing double doors of the reception hall swung slowly open, and as Kathryn stepped inside, a sea of Starfleet dress uniforms swivelled in her direction, conversations breaking off into applause. She paused briefly to paste the expected smile on her face as she climbed the short flight of stairs to the stage. Three admirals – Kjogo, Starfleet’s Commander-in-Chief, Taela Shanti, and a Coridanite man Kathryn recognised as Ube Mekas, the Starfleet liaison to the Office of the President – stood waiting for her, clapping and smiling.  
  
_I’m home_ , she told herself. _The crew is safe. I’m about to become an admiral. This is everything I’ve ever wanted_.  
  
So why did she feel like turning tail and heading straight back to the Delta quadrant?

* * *

  
  
“It’s the captain,” Harry exclaimed, elbowing Tom in the side.  
  
“Ow. Where?” Tom raised himself on his toes, peering over the sea of mostly-grizzled heads toward the doors.  
  
Harry pointed to the stage. “I guess _she’s_ the guest of honour.”  
  
Admiral Shanthi waited patiently for an ensign to finish adjusting the microphone, then stepped forward, holding up her hands for silence. The applause died down instantly.  
  
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began. “As you all know, eight weeks ago a miraculous event occurred: the return of the USS _Voyager_ from the Delta quadrant. Many of us here tonight believed this would never happen in our lifetimes, with the obvious exception of our Vulcan members, of course.” Shanthi paused for the expected gentle hum of laughter. “And yet, this intrepid ship and her crew were led home in one tenth of the time it should have taken them, thanks to their valiant captain, Kathryn Janeway.”  
  
She stepped back a pace and held out her arm, indicating Kathryn should move forward.  
  
“Is it my imagination, or is the captain not particularly happy about this?” Harry muttered to Tom.  
  
Tom studied her rigid posture, her stony-grey eyes, the captain’s mask he knew so well. “It’s not your imagination, Harry.”  
  
“– bravery, and your exemplary service to Starfleet,” Shanthi was saying, “I’m honoured to promote you to the rank of Rear Admiral. Congratulations, Admiral Janeway.”  
  
The room erupted in applause as Shanthi pinned the rank bar to Kathryn’s collar. The fleet admiral stepped back, clapping, and nodded to the microphone.  
  
Reluctantly, Kathryn stepped forward.  
  
“Thank you,” she began stiltedly as the applause filtered away. “Thank you, Admiral. I’ll do my best to live up to the responsibility you’ve seen fit to give me. I’m delighted to be home –”  
  
“If she’s delighted,” Tom muttered to Harry, “I’m an Orion slave girl.”  
  
“Shh,” B’Elanna hissed on his other side.  
  
“– never have made it without the most exemplary crew any captain could hope to serve with, and if any honours should be bestowed tonight, they should be the ones to receive them.”  
  
Harry watched as the newly-minted admiral’s eyes searched the room. He saw the moment Janeway caught sight of him and the bright, unfettered smile that spread across her face.  
  
“In fact,” she went on, her voice lightening, “I see that my crew is in attendance tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in showing your appreciation for the fine men and women who brought _Voyager_ home.” She began clapping with enthusiasm, stepping back from the microphone as others around the room applauded more hesitantly.  
  
Kjogo glided past her, appropriating the room’s attention. “Yes, congratulations to Admiral Janeway and of course the crew of _Voyager_. Ladies and gentlemen, canapés will be served shortly, so please feel free to stay for a while. Admiral Janeway will also be making the rounds of the room for those of you looking forward to hearing her tales of life in the Delta quadrant.”  
  
Harry saw his former captain stiffen slightly and shoot Kjogo a smile laced with venom. “Guess nobody thought to clear that little plan with the captain,” he murmured to Tom.  
  
“Kjogo’s a brave woman,” Tom snickered back. “I’m not sure if we should be rescuing her or Janeway.”

* * *

  
  
She felt like she was wading through molasses.  
  
Every time Kathryn spotted a member of her crew and tried to extricate herself from whatever polite, repetitive conversation she’d been dragged into, Lieutenant Jens appeared at her side towing yet another admiral, politician or self-important person she was obliged to make nice with. The hall was stuffy and sour with the smell of too many portly bodies, and her throat was dust-dry from far too much talking to people she didn’t know and couldn’t care less about. After close to an hour of it, Kathryn was ready to scream.  
  
“Excuse me,” she said abruptly to the silver-haired, pontificating admiral she was currently corralled with. Handing Jens her warm, half-full glass of champagne, Kathryn pushed her way through the crowd, seeking friendly faces or solitude, whichever came first.  
  
“Captain Janeway!” she heard. Flinching, she ducked away, then realised the voice had been a familiar one. She turned.  
  
“Ensign Kim,” she said, relieved.  
  
“Cap- uh, Admiral,” he stammered. “Congratulations on your promotion, ma’am. It’s so good to see you. We’ve all been worried. Are you all right?”  
  
“I’m fine, Harry.” She squeezed his shoulder. “How is everyone?”  
  
“Fine, we’re all fine.” He leaned in closer. “Admiral, we haven’t seen you in almost two months. What’s going on? Why were they keeping you away from us?”  
  
“Not here,” she murmured.  
  
Harry nodded. “Tom and B’Elanna are out on the balcony. Miral was getting a little fussy.”  
  
Kathryn’s face lit up. “Then it’s time I saw my goddaughter, don’t you think?”  
  
“Most of the rest of the crew have already left,” Harry told her quietly as they weaved through the crowd. “Everyone’s eager to see their families, of course, but they’d have stayed if they could. It’s been made pretty clear that we’re not really welcome here.”  
  
“Is that so?” she asked grimly, pushing open the balcony door.  
  
“Captain.” Tom Paris rushed over to her, taking her hands. “Thank God. We’ve all been so worried about you.”  
  
Kathryn squeezed his hands. “As you can see, I’m fine, Mr Paris. Now where is that beautiful daughter of yours?”  
  
B’Elanna moved over, cradling the sleeping bundle in her arms. “She finally dropped off. Here, would you like to hold her, Captain? I mean, Admiral.”  
  
Kathryn shrugged off the unease that rippled through her every time someone addressed her by her brand-new rank. “I’d love to. How are you faring, Lieutenant?”  
  
“Not so bad. A little confused, though.” B’Elanna gently deposited Miral in Kathryn’s arms and smiled as her erstwhile captain’s face softened. “Why were they keeping you separate from us, Admiral?”  
  
“I’m told it was necessary to ensure a contained debriefing.”  
  
B’Elanna raised an eyebrow. “Funny that they didn’t segregate the rest of us from each other.”  
  
“Have you seen Chakotay?” Kathryn asked abruptly.  
  
B’Elanna’s smile faded. “Yeah, he’s around here somewhere.”  
  
Kathryn placed Miral carefully back in her mother’s arms. “I need to find him. Excuse me, all of you. And let’s catch up soon, shall we?” She headed for the balcony doors. “Maybe at _your_ promotion ceremonies,” she added over her shoulder with a grin.  
  
Without waiting for their reactions, she pushed through the doors and scanned the room. Over by the far wall, near the main exit, she spotted Chakotay’s dark head. Kathryn started pushing her way through the crowd, politely excusing herself whenever someone tried to draw her into conversation. Still, it took her a good five minutes to reach the spot where she’d seen Chakotay.  
  
By the time she got there he was gone.  
  
Frantic, she ran through the exit doors and down the main steps.  
  
He was walking away, deep in conversation with Seven. He had his palm resting on her lower back and their heads were close together. As she watched, Chakotay smiled at Seven and drew her closer against his side.  
  
Blinking, trying to ignore the catch in her throat, Kathryn turned and made her way back up the steps.

* * *

  
  
Chakotay glanced over his shoulder and stopped short, causing Seven to slow her stride. She looked back.  
  
“Was that Admiral Janeway?”  
  
Chakotay shrugged, keeping his voice neutral. “It might have been. I’m not sure.”  
  
“We should congratulate her,” Seven suggested.  
  
“No,” he said quickly, then more evenly, “no. I’m sure she’s been overwhelmed by well-wishers tonight. We’ll see her some other time.”  
  
“As you wish.” Seven took his arm, and Chakotay turned his back on the woman whose side he’d stood by for the past seven years.  
  
Not that she’d care to speak with him anyway, he thought, judging by the way their last conversation had gone.  
  
He’d had such hopes that day. He’d wanted to tell her that everything was different now that they were home, that they weren’t bound by command isolation anymore, that maybe now they could explore whatever had lingered between them for seven years. He’d had every intention of breaking it off gently with Seven that evening, so he and Kathryn could start fresh.  
  
_The best laid plans_ , he thought.  
  
He was committed to being with Seven now, at least for the foreseeable future. She would never admit it, but the prospect of life on Earth frightened her, particularly given the cold reception they’d been subjected to over the past two months. And since the Doctor had ill-advisedly removed her emotional failsafe only hours before their untimely return home, she’d clung to Chakotay as her safe harbour. He couldn’t abandon her now.  
  
And, honestly, he didn’t want to. He’d come to know Seven quite well over the past few months, and she’d greatly surprised him. He found her charming and easy to talk to, and her sense of humour was deliciously wicked. He could probably fall in love with her quite easily, he thought. If it weren’t for Kathryn.  
  
But Kathryn was gone.

* * *

  
  
Kathryn headed straight for the ladies’ room, head down, praying nobody would spot her. At that moment she wasn’t sure she’d be capable of following even the inane and repetitive kind of conversation she’d been enduring all evening.  
  
The bathroom was empty, thank God. She bent over the sink, splashing water onto her face with trembling hands. Dabbing the dampness away with a towel, Kathryn met her own eyes in the mirror.  
  
There was tension in the lines of her shoulders, tightness around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. She looked pale and exhausted and sad. She shook her head slightly. Anyone would think she was still back in the Delta quadrant, bowed with the responsibility of a journey that seemed to have no respite and no end.  
  
This was not the joyous homecoming she’d dreamed of all those long and lonely years.  
  
As she stared at her own reflection, her eyes filled with tears and a sob broke from her throat. She wanted to run back to her ship. She wanted to sit in her briefing room and look around at the dear, familiar faces of her crew. She wanted her _mother_ , damn it.  
  
She wanted what she couldn’t have. What she’d lost. What she’d pushed away.  
  
_Don’t be a stranger_. It was the last thing Chakotay had said to her, in a tone laced with sarcasm, and it had taken every ounce of control for her to pretend it didn’t rip her guts out.  
  
_What the hell do you want from me_? she’d wanted to scream at him. _What am I supposed to do now_?  
  
He’d just started a relationship with _Seven_ , for God’s sake. Seven, who was almost entirely inexperienced in romance, who was just beginning to explore the breadths of human emotions, who’d just had her entire universe turned on its head by their return to the Alpha quadrant. Kathryn was responsible for the way Seven’s life had turned out. She was hardly going to abandon the young woman to her own devices on Earth, and then compound the injury by making a play for her new boyfriend.  
  
Even if it cost Kathryn everything she’d hoped for.  
  
It was clear that she and Chakotay couldn’t be to each other what she’d once hoped they could be. And that last day, it had become clear that they couldn’t even be friends anymore.  
  
Starfleet captains were consummate actors; they had to be, and none more so than a captain who had to get up and fight every day for seven years, even when she didn’t think she could take another step. But that day in her ready room, she’d put on the performance of her career.  
  
Straightening up, Kathryn let her features settle into those of the clear-eyed, composed Starfleet officer everyone was expecting her to be, and walked back into her new life.


	3. The Delta Quadrant's Darling

Small talk is a great disguise  
Just let me be, just let me be  
Empty thoughts start to crowd my mind  
Am I only living, living to survive?  
– Faith Marie, _Antidote_

* * *

 ** _  
Chapter Two: The Delta Quadrant’s Darling_**  
_May, 2378_  
  
  
Kathryn had been right, Chakotay mused as he pinned on his brand-new captain’s pips. _Voyager_ ’s former Maquis crewmen had been welcomed into Starfleet with open arms, and most of them, including himself, had been immediately promoted.  
  
He’d taken Seven to Trebus after debriefings had finished. She’d got along surprisingly well with his sister Sekaya, so well that she’d been reluctant to return to Earth a month later. Officially they were still on leave until the beginning of July, but Chakotay had wanted to get back to Earth. He anticipated that some of the _Voyager_ crew would have trouble adjusting to their return and there wasn’t much he could do for them from several sectors away.  
  
And now his presence had been requested at Starfleet Headquarters. He assumed he was about to be given his next assignment. He wondered if it would be a ship of his own.  
  
It wouldn’t be _Voyager_ ; of that he was certain. The ship was at Utopia Planitia being picked over by swarms of engineers and wasn’t expected to be recommissioned any time soon. At least Lieutenant Commander Torres was in charge of the operation, and Seven would be acting as Starfleet’s civilian consultant on the peculiarities of _Voyager_ ’s Borg componentry.  
  
Seven and B’Elanna seemed to have resumed the truce they’d held before he and Seven had become a couple, which was a relief; Chakotay hadn’t enjoyed having his girlfriend and best friend at loggerheads. Not that B’Elanna hadn’t expressed a few choice opinions over his romantic decisions.  
  
“Just tell me what the hell you’re thinking,” she’d demanded one night over a few too many glasses of wine. “She’s half your age, Chakotay.”  
  
“But twice my IQ,” he’d countered with a smile, “not to mention she’s actually very sweet. And she’s not half my age.”  
  
“Practically,” B’Elanna had snorted. “She’s what, twenty years younger than you? Don’t you think you’d be better matched with someone closer to your own age?”  
  
_I used to_ , he’d thought. _But she’s made it crystal clear that she’s not interested_.  
  
“Seven is more mature than you give her credit for,” he’d replied mildly. “And besides, we’re taking things slowly. I have no intention of hurting her.”  
  
“It’s not her I’m worried about,” B’Elanna muttered, but she’d dropped it at that – only to move onto the even less comfortable topic of his ruined friendship with their former captain. It didn’t matter how deftly he tried to dodge the subject; B’Elanna wouldn’t rest until he’d promised to call Kathryn the next day.  
  
It had taken him most of the next day to work himself up to placing the call, only to reach Kathryn’s aide instead, a willowy brunette whose hauteur and patrician features reminded him oddly of Seven; Lieutenant Jens had assured him Kathryn would return his call the following day. She didn’t, and when he commed her office again, Jens’ politeness was edged with impatience. Chakotay was left with the distinct impression that neither Kathryn nor her aide would welcome further contact.  
  
And when B'Elanna wanted to know if he intended to keep trying to reach Kathryn anyway, Chakotay had evaded the subject, and when pressed, muttered vague half-truths.  
  
About Seven, though, he hadn’t lied; they had been taking it slowly. He’d been content with dinner dates and chaste kisses. But it seemed Seven hadn’t.  
  
The seduction took him completely by surprise. They'd finished a picnic at Golden Gate Park and walked back to Seven's apartment hand in hand. At the door, he bent to kiss her goodbye – just a brief press of his lips to hers – and she had wound her arms around his neck and pulled him inside, pressing her body to his.  
  
Until that point, when they kissed, he’d always kept his hands strictly above her shoulders and his kisses gentle and controlled, and Seven had mentioned once or twice that she appreciated his restraint. Apparently she had changed her mind. She bit down on his lip, pushed her hips against his, tugged open his shirt and splayed her hands across his bare chest, and Chakotay had pulled back, breathing heavily.  
  
“Seven, what are you doing?”  
  
Her face was flushed. “We have been exclusively dating for four months, Chakotay. According to my research, most couples consummate their relationship well before this stage.”  
  
He took her hands in his and kept his voice gentle. “There’s no golden rulebook for relationships, Seven. You don’t need to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”  
  
“I appreciate your patience with me. But I believe I’m ready.” She bit her lip. “I would like to be intimate with you. That is,” she looked up at him with anxiety in her eyes, “if you’re willing.”  
  
Chakotay looked at her lush body, her swollen lips, her darkened eyes, and couldn’t deny his own response. “Oh, I’m willing,” he murmured, and bent to capture her mouth.  
  
He’d done his best to go slowly, to draw out her pleasure, to make it all about her, and he thought he’d succeeded. Afterward she lay half over him, boneless and smiling as he traced her spine with his fingertips.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“Very much so,” she murmured drowsily. “You exceeded my expectations.”  
  
“Glad I measured up,” he teased.  
  
“You were perfect,” Seven mumbled, and drifted off to sleep.  
  
She had upped the intensity of their relationship after that night. Wanted to spend more time with him. Moved some of her belongings into his apartment, and invited him to keep his at her place. Spent the night with him several times a week, usually initiating sexual contact within half an hour of arriving. In fact, she’d become somewhat insatiable. Chakotay felt like he was off-balance most of the time – seven years of abstinence, bar a few short dalliances, and now he was bedding a beautiful young woman almost every night. It wasn’t that he couldn’t keep up with the pace, but he felt …  
  
He didn’t know what he felt. It all just seemed so … empty. The sex was great – Seven was in that, as in all things, a talented and diligent student – and it was nice to be physically close to someone after so many years starved of contact, but something was missing. As soon as the post-orgasm afterglow faded, all he felt was …  
  
Empty.

* * *

  
  
Tossing her jacket on the pristine bed she hadn’t slept in for almost a month, Kathryn moved toward the bathroom, shedding pieces of her uniform as she went. Her steps felt leaden. By the time she sat naked on the edge of the enormous ensuite bathtub, her eyes were almost closed.  
  
“Computer, fill the tub. Thirty-seven degrees Celsius. Vanilla scented bubbles.”  
  
The computer chirped and delicious-smelling water began to stream into the tub. As soon as it was full enough, Kathryn lowered herself into the bath with a sigh.  
  
_Incoming transmission,_ the computer informed her.  
  
Kathryn could barely summon the energy to groan. “Who is it from?”  
  
_Fleet Admiral Nyla Kjogo_.  
  
Cursing under her breath, Kathryn hauled herself out of the bath, wrapping a robe tightly around her over-punished body. She sat at her desk and activated the commlink.  
  
“Good evening, Admiral. What can I do for you?”  
  
~I’ve made some adjustments to your schedule for next week, Kathryn. The Regulan premier has decided to pay a surprise visit to Earth and I’m assigning you to show him around. It’ll be good for publicity. Lieutenant Jens will handle the details of your travel and appearances.~  
  
“Admiral,” Kathryn couldn’t hide her dismay, “I’ve already made plans for next week. I’m going to spend some time with my mother. I’ve barely seen her since _Voyager_ got home. You provided your approval.”  
  
~Well, you’re going to have to postpone your little holiday. President Zife has specifically asked that this assignment be given to you.~  
  
_President Zife_ , Kathryn thought sourly. _You’d think the man had a personal stake in ensuring I never get a moment’s rest._  
  
“Admiral, I’ve just come back from a whistle-stop tour of seven member planets across three sectors, and before that I was out pressing the flesh and posing for photos in the former Demilitarised Zone for two weeks. Your aides have me spending every spare moment giving media interviews and being fitted for ridiculous haute couture ballgowns, and that personal trainer you assigned to me is a slave driver. I haven’t worked out so hard or so frequently since I was a cadet.” She paused to get her temper back under control. “I need some downtime with my family, sir. I’m exhausted.”  
  
~Then you’d better make sure you get some rest tonight, Kathryn, and for God’s sake get a treatment done on those under-eye circles. You don’t want to look like a haggard old crone in the PR shots. Kjogo out.~  
  
The screen went black.  
  
Kathryn didn’t know whether to scream, burst into tears or throw the console across the room. But she’d spent seven years ruthlessly tamping down her emotions and it was a hard habit to break, so instead she sucked in a deep breath, went over to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a very large scotch.

* * *

  
  
“Captain Chakotay, you are hereby assigned to Starfleet Intelligence, reporting directly to Admiral Owen Paris. I believe you’re acquainted?”  
  
“We are.” Chakotay shook Paris’ hand, then turned back to study Admiral Kjogo; she met his gaze steadily. “Forgive me, Admiral, but I thought Admiral Paris reported to you, under the Communications Division?”  
  
“Now that Project Pathfinder has been downgraded, Owen has been reassigned. I understand you’re still on leave for another two weeks, Captain, but I expect he’d like to give you an introductory briefing now.”  
      
Kjogo rose to her feet and Chakotay and Paris mirrored her.  
  
“Congratulations, Captain. Given your background, I’m sure you’ll find counter-intelligence is an appropriate posting to utilise your skills.”  
  
“Thank you, Admiral. If I might prevail on you for a moment longer?”  
  
Kjogo cocked an impatient eyebrow.  
  
“I understand Admiral Janeway reports directly to you. Her former crew hasn’t seen her for weeks, and they – we – miss her. Can you tell me if her schedule allows for a _Voyager_ get-together in the near future?”  
  
“Kathryn is a very busy woman, Captain. I’m afraid she’ll be fully occupied for some time to come.”  
  
Chakotay’s forehead crinkled. “Surely she gets a day off every now and then?”  
  
Kjogo shrugged. “As I said, she’s a busy woman. I can’t see her finding the time to mingle with lower crewmen when she has so many important engagements, but I suppose I could instruct her aide to book you in for an hour in, say, a month or so?”  
  
Chakotay’s jaw loosened. “Do you mean to tell me Kathryn hasn’t had a moment to herself since debriefings, and there’s no respite in sight?”  
  
The admiral drew herself up to her full, impressive height; Chakotay found himself eye-to-eye with her. “Admiral Janeway’s schedule is no longer your concern, Captain, in case you’ve forgotten. You don’t answer to her anymore. As for respite, Kathryn is grateful to be home – that’s all the rest and relaxation she needs.”  
  
“You make it sound as though Kathryn should be grateful to _you_ , Admiral.” Chakotay stared at her levelly.  
  
Kjogo flicked an unreadable glance toward Owen Paris, whose expression remained impassive, then turned back to Chakotay. “I’m sure you of all people are aware of Janeway’s propensity for reckless decisions, Captain. It’s largely thanks to my intervention that she wasn’t brought up on numerous charges after Starfleet examined _Voyager_ ’s mission logs. So, yes. She should be grateful.” Kjogo smiled without warmth. “As should you,” she added over her shoulder as she exited the room.  
  
Chakotay turned back to Paris in disbelief. “Excuse my bluntness, sir, but is she serious?”  
  
Owen sat behind his desk, waving Chakotay to the seat opposite. “About her having intervened with Command to ensure Katie avoided misconduct charges? Serious as a heart attack.” He steepled his fingers, watching Chakotay carefully. “What Nyla declined to explain is that she also intervened on _your_ behalf. And on behalf of Tom and the rest of your crew, including that young lady you’ve been seen out and about with so frequently. Your welcome home could have been a lot less friendly without Admiral Kjogo’s influence.”  
  
Chakotay’s eyes narrowed. “You make it sound as though Admiral Kjogo singlehandedly kept us all out of prison out of the goodness of her heart.”  
  
“Do I?” Owen asked mildly. “Well, I’m sure Katie’s had something to do with that as well. After all, she hasn’t missed an opportunity to praise her former crew to the media.” Paris continued to stare at him. “And you and I both know how much Katie loves the spotlight.”  
  
“Kathryn _hates_ the –” Chakotay paused, reading the glimmer in Owen’s eye. Closing his mouth, he sat back as comprehension rushed over him.  
  
So Kathryn had been dragooned into service as Starfleet’s media darling under threat of losing her career? Chakotay growled. She’d given them, and her crew, the best years of her life, and this was how they repaid her? She must be hating every minute of it.  
  
_It’s not your problem anymore_ , he reminded himself.  
  
Screw that. He might no longer be her first officer, but he was still her friend –  
  
_Except you’re not_.  
  
She’d made sure of that on their first day back in the Alpha quadrant, and she’d kept on making sure of it over the months since. It was obvious. Sure, Starfleet had her sequestered for debriefings, but surely after her release she could have got in touch with him if she’d wanted to re-establish their friendship. No matter how busy she was.  
  
He remembered the night of her promotion. He’d lingered, despite Seven’s discomfort in the crowded hall of strangers, hoping for a chance to speak with Kathryn. But she’d come nowhere near him and eventually he’d suggested to Seven that they leave. And then, on their way out, he’d turned back to glance at the doors of Cochrane Hall, and thought for a moment that he’d seen her. But she’d had her back to him – if it was even really her – and was walking away.  
  
And yet… the thought of drifting further away from her, of completely letting go of what they’d had… it was unacceptable.  
  
Dragging himself back into the present, Chakotay sat forward. Owen Paris was still watching him patiently.  
  
“Have you spoken with Kathryn lately, sir?” Chakotay asked.  
  
“You heard Nyla,” Owen replied. “Katie’s schedule doesn’t leave much time for socialising. But I’m sure she’d welcome a call from her former first officer.”  
  
“I’ve tried to reach her,” Chakotay admitted. “But I’ll try again.”  
  
“Good move.” Paris handed him a padd. “In the meantime, Captain, welcome to Starfleet Intel.”  
  
“Admiral –” Chakotay took the padd, frowning. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but why am I here? Seeing I’ve just been promoted to captain, I rather expected I’d be given command of a ship.”  
  
Paris smiled. “You’re here because I requested you.”  
  
“I see.” Chakotay studied him. “So why the promotion?”  
  
“A captain’s rank gives you a far higher clearance level, and you’ll need that for the assignment I have in mind for you. My aide will brief you fully, but I wanted to give you a heads-up and see if I can’t tempt you to wrap up your leave a few weeks early.”  
  
“Something urgent?”  
  
“You could say that.” Owen leaned back in his chair. “Have you heard of the Fermola Rebellion?”  
  
Chakotay searched his memory. “I remember hearing something about it from the Pathfinder transmissions. Wasn’t it a skirmish over mining rights in the Trialas system a few years back?”  
  
“That’s the one. As you know, the Trialas system is independent, but Starfleet relies heavily on the dilithium produced on the third and fourth planets. The mining rights were managed by Japori II until about four years ago, when a group of miners decided they weren’t happy with Federation trade laws. They took over the Fermola dilithium facility and refused to allow any of the product to be transported to the Japori freighters.”  
  
“As I understand it, the hijack was contained and the mine returned to Japori authority?”  
  
“Yes, Starfleet stepped in and sorted it all out. Or so we thought.”  
  
Chakotay frowned. “What are you saying, Admiral?”  
  
“I’m saying the Fermola group didn’t just go gentle into the good night, Captain. The ringleaders consented to leave the Trialas system, but it appears their rebellion was incited by an individual or individuals we haven’t yet identified, and the Fermola incident was just the start of things. For the past few years they’ve been building alliances and gathering resources. Someone has to be bankrolling all that. They’ve become quite the power to be reckoned with for anyone wanting to trade with the Borderlands planets.”  
  
“Which would include the Federation and the Klingon Empire,” Chakotay deduced.  
  
“And the Cardassians,” Paris agreed. “We even suspect they’ve made overtures into the Romulan Star Empire.”  
  
Chakotay’s eyebrows rose. “I can see why Starfleet Intelligence is interested.”  
  
“On top of that, they’ve been encroaching on what were traditionally Orion and Ferengi trade routes. They’re risking open conflict in close proximity to Federation space. It could destabilise the whole region.”  
  
“So why not shut them down?”  
  
“We can’t,” Owen said flatly. “Not only does Starfleet no longer have the manpower, but we don’t know who’s bankrolling them. They’re as tricky as the Orion Syndicate – you think you’ve found the kingpin and it turns out to be just another lackey. Nobody knows – or is giving up – the brains behind the operation.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“We need someone to train up the new operatives we’re grooming to send in undercover. And a fresh perspective on the intel wouldn’t go astray, either.”  
  
“You want me to train intelligence operatives?”  
  
“You’re the ideal candidate. You taught Advanced Tactics for over two years, joined an insurgent group that ran rings around both Starfleet and the Cardassians for a good while, and picked up a few tricks in the Delta quadrant, I’d warrant. What do you say?”  
  
Chakotay hesitated. He’d spoken the truth before: he’d expected a ship of his own, a crew, the chance to continue exploring space. But it was good to feel solid ground beneath his feet, and this job would give him the opportunity to stay close to the _Voyager_ s – at least, those who decided to stay on Earth. And, hopefully, to rekindle his friendship with Kathryn.  
  
And of course, he remembered somewhat belatedly, there was his relationship with Seven to think of. He shifted in his chair.  
  
“I’d say I’m in,” he replied.  
  
“Great.” Paris stood and indicated the padd Chakotay held in his hands. “There’s some background info. Report to your new office in the Turner Building tomorrow at 0900 sharp for a full briefing.”

* * *

  
  
Premier Sina of Regulus V was a royal pain in the ass, Kathryn reflected as she dragged herself through the front door of her apartment. The Caitian had taken a shine to her of the most irritating sort, and she’d spent the past four days unwinding his two-metre tail from various parts of her body and picking strands of his fur – it was shedding season – off her uniform.  
  
Stripping off her jacket and tossing it into the recycler, Kathryn sneezed for perhaps the hundredth time that day. Not only was she not particularly fond of cats, it seemed she’d developed an allergy to this particular felinoid.  
  
At least she had the night off for a change – the premier was attending a formal dinner at President Zife’s residence – and she intended to make the most of it. Kathryn stripped to her underwear and headed directly for the bathroom.  
  
“Computer, fill the bathtub. Maintain temperature at thirty-eight degrees Celsius and add rose-scented bubbles.”  
  
She went back to the kitchen while the tub was filling, selected champagne from the multitude of bottles that appeared in her fridge with alarming regularity and popped it open, swigging directly from the bottle’s neck. The kitchen counter was blooming with bouquets, all bearing cards addressed to ‘the darling of the Delta quadrant’ or some variant, and her coffee table was overflowing with prettily-wrapped boxes. Kathryn slumped against the wall. Would this never stop? Lieutenant Jens had had to be given the passcode to her apartment so she could arrange for delivery of the gifts that kept turning up at Kathryn’s office.  
  
She fingered the card attached to a spray of lurid Rigelian orchids, idly reading the inscription, which was so explicit it made her blush. She screwed it up in one hand and tossed it into the sink.  
  
Wandering back toward the bedroom, she noticed that there were seven messages blinking on the console on her desk. Jens was pretty adept at weeding out the party invitations, requests to give commemorative speeches and marriage proposals, so this lot should hopefully all be from people Kathryn actually wanted to talk to. She pressed ‘play’ and listened as she tipped the champagne bottle back up to her lips.  
  
_Hello, sweetheart_ , came her mother’s voice, and Kathryn smiled. _I’m so sorry you couldn’t make it home this week. I hope they’re not working you too hard. Tell that fleet admiral of yours that if she doesn’t let you take a break soon, she’ll have me to answer to_.  
  
Kathryn’s mouth twisted. She doubted even Gretchen Janeway could intimidate Nyla Kjogo.  
  
_Phoebe and Sean will be here for the weekend_ , Gretchen continued. _They’d love to catch up with you before they head back to Betazed. Try to come for a few hours at least, won’t you? I’ll be making my famous cheesecake for your birthday. I love you, honey._  
  
Her mother’s message ended, and Kathryn’s smile faded. She’d barely seen Phoebe since touching down on Earth – her sister was busy with a travelling exhibition of her artwork – and she hadn’t even met her brother-in-law yet. She was supposed to be attending yet another interminable diplomatic ball this weekend, this time in London. Kjogo would be there, parading Kathryn before the photographers, and she doubted she’d be able to escape the fleet admiral’s vice-like grip for long enough to visit the powder room, let alone sneak off to Indiana.  
  
And Saturday was her birthday. Her forty-third birthday, and her first chance in seven years to celebrate it with her family. _Damn it_.  
  
There were still six messages waiting. Kathryn’s eyes blurred as she stared at the console, and she suddenly decided she didn’t want to hear from anyone else. For the first few weeks after their release from debriefings, her former senior staff – with two notable exceptions she refused to think about – had called to leave invitations to dinners and weekends away, but after a string of last-minute broken dates the invitations had slowed to a trickle and the tone of the messages had morphed from cheerful to concerned. Even the persistent B’Elanna Torres had stopped suggesting Kathryn make the time to visit her goddaughter and started asking if she was okay.  
  
And Kathryn didn’t want to admit to anyone, least of all the crew she still lived to protect, that she wasn’t at all okay.  
  
London turned out much as Kathryn had expected: overdressed ambassadors, blowhard admirals and platters of the richest, most decadent food the Federation had to offer, and Kjogo had hardly left her side. She’d barely had the chance to comm her mother and apologise for missing out on the cake Gretchen had made especially for her birthday.  
  
The following weeks were filled with yet more official functions, media interviews, mindless paperwork and the interminable, body-shattering workouts her personal trainer prescribed. By the time July rolled around, Kathryn could barely drag herself out of bed.  
  
She was bored, she was lonely, she was exhausted, and she was starting to wonder about the point of it all. Surely by now her former crew were safe from Kjogo’s thinly-veiled threats of reprisal? Surely Kathryn had earned the right to request an assignment that actually _meant_ something?  
  
Determined, she dressed in her perfectly-pressed uniform, pinned up her hair – Kjogo had insisted she have it lengthened, claiming it was both versatile and photogenic; it was perhaps the only concession Kathryn hadn’t really minded making – and checked her reflection. The woman gazing back at her had the smooth skin of a Kriosian and the taut body of a teenager. She’d never looked better.  
  
Except for her eyes, which laid bare the weariness of her soul.  
  
Scowling, Kathryn strode out of her apartment, resolved that today would be the day she stood up to Nyla Kjogo.  
  
An hour later, she staggered into her office, reeling.  
  
So much for her demands. She’d started by requesting a transfer to another division – Science, Intelligence, Exploration, anything useful – and been flatly denied, which wasn’t unexpected. Her next tactic was to suggest she use her newfound fame to lead first-contact missions; again, Kjogo had refused, telling her she was needed in her current capacity and should leave the first contacts to the fleet captains. Finally, growing desperate, she’d declared that she intended to take a leave of absence whether Kjogo approved it or not, and if not, she was prepared to resign from Starfleet.  
  
Kjogo had risen to her feet, hands planted on her desk, cold glare turned on her.  
  
“If you attempt to refuse my orders – if you defy me – if you so much as _sneeze_ in the wrong direction, Kathryn, I will rescind the generosity this organisation has shown you and your former crew. I will request that the Judge Advocate General open an immediate investigation into your many transgressions against the Prime Directive. I will have the unsavoury elements of your crew – all of them – thrown into prison. I will have your Borg dissected by Starfleet Medical. I will have your EMH decompiled. And don’t think I can’t, or won’t, make good on this promise.”  
  
Kathryn stood to face her, pale but determined.  
  
“Leave my crew out of this, Admiral. I will _not_ allow them to be treated like criminals or lab rats. They deserve all the accolades and the freedom they have already been granted, and I resent your threats.”  
  
“Your ingratitude,” Kjogo’s voice lowered dangerously, “is unbecoming of a Starfleet officer.”  
  
“Then allow me to resign,” Kathryn shot back.  
  
“That is not an option.” Kjogo’s expression flickered. “However, in the interest of harmony, I will agree to allow you two weeks’ personal leave – after you complete your next assignment.”  
  
“Which is?”  
  
Kjogo smiled. “A simple diplomatic mission, and not even very far from home. Representatives of a number of Borderland planets will be meeting with President Zife on Stardate 55508. The topics of discussion will include strengthening trade agreements and political affiliations between the unallied Borderlands worlds and the Federation.”  
  
_Stardate 55508_. Kathryn stared at her. “That’s only two days away, Admiral, and I haven’t been briefed on the political intricacies of those sectors.”  
  
“That’s why you’ll be taking Lieutenant Jens with you. She is fully apprised of the political situation. You’ll find her a useful resource.”  
  
Kathryn’s lips compressed. “I see. And might I ask where this conference is being held?”  
  
“Of course.” Kjogo smiled genially, but her eyes were sharp. “It’s a world you’re quite familiar with, in fact. You spent some time there – oh, it must be almost twenty years ago now.”  
  
Kathryn stared at her.  
  
“Yes, in fact, I believe Stardate 55508 will make it exactly twenty years since – oh, but of course, it’s unlikely you remember the event with a great deal of joy. Never mind. I’m sure your second visit to Tau Ceti Prime will be a much happier occasion.”  
  
Unable to speak, Kathryn had allowed Kjogo to take her by the elbow and guide her out into the anteroom. Whatever else the fleet admiral might have said to her was lost in the haze of her own shock. She could barely remember her feet moving, carrying her automatically to the dubious sanctuary of her own office.  
  
Tau Ceti Prime.  
  
The loss of her father and fiancé in that fatal shuttle crash on the Tau Ceti ice cap – almost exactly twenty years ago, as Kjogo had so sweetly pointed out – was a hurt that had faded over time and under the weight of countless other losses, but it was one she would never completely get over. And the wanton, deliberate cruelty with which Kjogo had delivered her blow left Kathryn shell-shocked.  
  
She no longer harboured any doubts that, should she flout Admiral Kjogo’s orders, the Tandaran woman would use every ounce of influence and vindictiveness to make her, and _Voyager_ ’s crew, pay for it. She couldn’t refuse Kjogo’s assignments. She couldn’t even resign from Starfleet. Any act of defiance would leave the people she loved unprotected.  
  
She was trapped.

* * *

  
  
The sweat had barely dried on their skin when Seven raised her head from Chakotay’s chest and announced that she would be accompanying her Aunt Irene to visit relatives on the Vega colony the following day.  
  
“For how long?” Chakotay frowned at her.  
  
Seven shrugged. “Two weeks. Perhaps longer.”  
  
Chakotay sat up, dislodging her from her comfortable position in his arms. “And you’re just mentioning this now?”  
  
Her eyes flickered uncertainly; it appeared her lack of experience in human relationships had caused her to transgress. “I apologise – I should have mentioned it sooner… My aunt has been suggesting the trip for some time, but I was busy upgrading _Voyager_ ’s astrometrics lab. However, the work has reached a stage where I am able to leave it in the hands of Utopia Planitia’s engineers.” She hesitated. “I didn’t mean to distress you. I’ll tell my aunt I won’t be able to go.”  
  
“No.” Chakotay sighed. “You should go. I’m sorry for getting upset with you.”  
  
“You’ve been so busy with your new role,” Seven added gently. “I doubt you will notice my absence.”  
  
“If you’re suggesting I won’t miss you,” he traced the side of her face with one finger, “you couldn’t be more wrong,” and she relaxed back against him, smiling.  
  
And yet, when he saw Seven off at the transport station the following morning, Chakotay found himself heading to work with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.  
  
He’d spent the first three days of his new job poring over the data Starfleet Intelligence had collected on the former Fermola rebels, chasing leads and checking facts, and delivered his report to Owen Paris in person, waiting patiently while the admiral read it.  
  
“The Celendi Nebula?” Paris had asked. “You think that’s their base of operations?”  
  
“That’s my theory.”  
  
Paris leaned back in his chair, placing the padd on his desk. “It’s certainly close to Trialas. But it’s riddled with plasma storms and unstable gases, and the Orion Syndicate controls three of the nearest planets. It’s hardly a safe harbour.”  
  
“Which is exactly why I believe the Fermola group chose it – it’s the perfect hiding place, out in plain sight but very difficult to penetrate.” He added pointedly, “And it wouldn’t be the first time a dissident group has used an unstable area of space in this manner.”  
  
Paris allowed a smirk to cross his face. “I knew your Maquis background would come in handy.” He studied the padd again. “Starfleet hasn’t charted any habitable worlds inside the Celendi Nebula. Where do you think they’re lurking?”  
  
Chakotay shrugged. “We won’t know until we go in there.”  
  
He’d spent the past six weeks imparting to his new team, a Vulcan and a human, everything he knew about covert tactics, and now they were ready to go in undercover. The work was hard and the hours were long, and he hadn’t seen a lot of Seven. She was tolerant of his absence; more so, he reflected ruefully, than a less experienced lover might be. But then, she was just as busy as he. Starfleet had engaged her to install an astrometrics lab on their newest prototype vessel, and she’d insisted Harry Kim be posted to the project alongside her.  
  
Chakotay’s workload failed to keep him distracted from the knowledge that Kathryn Janeway had not responded to any of the messages he’d left her, and her continued silence hurt more than he was willing to admit to himself. After the fifth unreturned comm call, he conceded defeat.  
  
She seemed to be forever in the news – smiling with diplomats, shaking hands with ambassadors, stepping from hovercars in slinky hand-tailored dresses – and Chakotay had taken to switching off the broadcasts as soon as his former captain’s face appeared.  
  
He’d learn to live with the loss of her friendship, he told himself. He had Seven in his life now. He didn’t need Kathryn. And clearly, she didn’t need him.  
  
But then, scanning the Federation News Network for pieces on the Borderlands trade worlds, he caught the tail-end of a social snippet: President Zife had met two days earlier with representatives from Yaraka, Midrian and Turkana at the recently refurbished ambassadorial residence on Tau Ceti Prime. Chakotay’s curiosity was piqued; those three worlds featured heavily in the Intelligence reports as possible strongholds for the Fermola group. He flipped through the holoimages from the conference. There was Zife, rotund blue face grinning widely as he shook hands with well-tailored, smooth-looking businessmen. There was Admiral Nyla Kjogo, who never seemed to be far from the president, eyes sharp and dress uniform perfect. And there – God. There was Kathryn Janeway.  
  
He stared, and couldn’t stop staring.  
  
She looked beautiful – sleek, groomed, her lithe body clothed in a black silk dress that clung to her like a waterfall. Her hair fell in loose curls down her back and her complexion looked like cream. He found himself touching a finger to the image, as though he could feel the softness of her skin.  
  
Then he looked into her eyes, and his stomach clenched.  
  
He knew that look. Had seen it before, many times, in the Delta quadrant. After battles, when they counted their injured and dead. During senior staff briefings when each ship’s report painted a picture grimmer than the last. In the Void.  
  
She was in pain. And he wasn’t there to help shoulder her burden.  
  
_Admiral Kathryn Janeway entertains representatives from a number of trade worlds on July 5 at the Ambassadorial Hall on Tau Ceti Prime_ , he read in the caption below the picture.  
  
Chakotay re-read it: _July 5, Tau Ceti Prime_. A loose connection sparked in his mind. That date, that planet. It meant something.  
  
The memory came to him gradually. Kathryn had been sitting on his couch late one night, two years ago now, feet tucked beneath her, eyes bleak as she recounted one of the most painful events of her life. _They both died eighteen years ago today_ , she’d told him, _drowned under the polar ice cap on Tau Ceti Prime. I was the only survivor_.  
  
She’d never been back to the scene of that terrible loss. Until now.  
  
He was shocked and dismayed for her, and he couldn’t believe she’d have chosen to be there, on that day of all days. And if she hadn’t chosen it, then somebody must have forced her into it.  
  
Chakotay yanked his console toward him and punched open a commline.  
  
~Admiral Janeway’s office.~ The young woman answering onscreen obviously recognised him, but her cool expression never changed.  
  
“Lieutenant Jens,” Chakotay greeted her. “May I speak with the admiral?”  
  
~I’m sorry, Captain, but Admiral Janeway is unavailable at present. I’ve passed on your earlier messages, but I’ll be happy to let her know you called again.~  
  
“I’d like to see her at her earliest convenience.”  
  
~In what regard, sir?~  
  
Chakotay raised his eyebrows. “That’s between the admiral and me, Lieutenant. How soon can you book me in?”  
  
Jens made a show of consulting a padd. ~The admiral has a thirty-minute slot available at 0800 hours two weeks from Friday. Shall I make you an appointment?~  
  
“Two weeks?” Chakotay stared at her. “That’s ridiculous. Look, Lieutenant, the admiral and I are old friends, as I’m sure you know. Just tell her I called. I’m sure she’ll make the time to see me.”  
  
~Of course,~ the lieutenant answered smoothly. ~Thank you for calling, Captain. Have a nice day.~  
  
The screen blinked off, and Chakotay sat staring at it pensively.  
  
Was this the life Kathryn had hoped for, after seven years of sacrificing herself to get her crew home to Earth? Was this what she wanted?  
  
Somehow, he doubted it. He remembered his conversation with Admiral Kjogo a couple of months earlier, when she’d implied that but for her influence, Kathryn would have been court-martialled.  
  
And yet the rest of her crew had been pardoned, promoted, promised the world on a platter and had it hand-delivered.  
  
And he found himself wondering just what sacrifices she’d agreed to, and continued to make, so that her crew could live the lives _they_ wanted.


	4. Turning Tides

Walk with me  
Open your sensitive mouth and talk to me  
Hold out your delicate hands and feel me  
– Depeche Mode, _Rush_  


* * *

  
  
**_Chapter Three: Turning Tides_**  
_July, 2378_  
  
  
It wasn’t as though tonight was any different. Another function, another shimmering, just-this-side-of-respectable dress. Another sparkling evening, during which she would smile and drink champagne and pretend not to mind when some sweaty diplomat addressed her as ‘honey’ or let his hands linger just a little too long. Another night she’d spend alone in her apartment in her cold white bed. And another morning to follow, during which Admiral Kjogo would berate her for challenging the political views of whichever ambassador she was supposed to charm, and snipe at her for smiling too infrequently, or for not showing enough cleavage.  
  
No, tonight was nothing different. And yet the very knowledge that this, tonight, was just one more evening in an interminable stretch of evenings that she couldn’t imagine ever ending, was the thing that drove Kathryn to excuse herself abruptly and seek solitude on the terrace before she screamed.  
  
She’d been through this a hundred times before, half a galaxy away: gritting her teeth behind a polite smile as she danced or dined with some alien trade minister, hiding the boredom and frustration as she negotiated for whatever _Voyager_ was running low on that week. But at least then she’d had her crew to back her up: Tom’s cheeky running commentary, Tuvok’s dry wit, Chakotay’s bolstering smile and protective hand on her back…  
  
Kathryn leaned on the terrace railing, sighing. There was no point in romanticising the past. Life on _Voyager_ had been years of terror interspersed with periods of loneliness and tedium, and there was no use pretending any different. At least her life now was more tedium than terror.  
  
As for the loneliness – well, not a lot had changed there.  
  
_Be honest_ , she rebuked herself. _That’s your choice now, just as much as it was your choice out there_.  
  
She’d started out trying to keep in touch with the crew. Particularly Tom and B’Elanna, who were both brave enough and stubborn enough to persist in calling her almost daily, weeks after she’d stopped hearing from Harry, the Doctor, Sam Wildman and the others. But every time she promised to meet up with them, Kjogo’s wilful directing of her social schedule forced her to cancel. It distressed Kathryn that as far as her crew was concerned she had become unreliable.  
  
Even Tuvok’s communiques no longer arrived with any regularity; she had last heard from him two months ago, when he’d informed her he was returning to active service but hadn’t said where he was being posted. Kathryn made a mental note to have Lieutenant Jens track him down. She could use a little Vulcan clarity in her life right about now.  
  
As for Seven, she had sent a short message after debriefings to let Kathryn know that she was going to Trebus, another when she and Chakotay had returned, and three or four brief messages since then. She seemed not to expect a reply; Kathryn rather thought the messages were a duty her former protégée was performing, like filing a status report. She had replied anyway, keeping her messages brief and upbeat; Seven had never been comfortable with excessive displays of emotion, and the last thing Kathryn wanted was to make Seven uncomfortable. Or Chakotay, for that matter.  
  
Not that Chakotay would care one way or the other. She hadn’t heard from him since _Voyager_ slipped into drydock, nor had she expected to; not after their final, soul-splintering conversation in her ready room.  
  
That didn’t make it hurt any less.  
  
Maybe she’d made the wrong choices about him, out there in the Delta quadrant. Maybe she wouldn’t have been so lonely then, be so lonely now, if she’d chosen differently –  
  
“Is this railing taken?”  
  
The smooth, gently amused masculine voice startled her. Turning, Kathryn’s gaze lit on a broad chest in pristine white linen, a head of slightly tousled black hair and a pair of smiling, very blue eyes in a face so handsome she couldn’t help staring.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” the man said. “Ryan Austin.”  
  
Recovering her composure, she took his outstretched hand. “Kathryn –”  
  
“– Janeway. Yes, I know.” He grinned. “I’d have to be living under a rock not to know who you are.”  
  
Her smile faded.  
  
“Actually,” the man said, lowering his voice, “I was hoping I’d have the chance to meet you tonight.” The grin broadened. “I was starting to think I’d have to do something embarrassing to get your attention, and then luckily I spotted you out here all alone.”  
  
Kathryn tugged her hand away unobtrusively. “Mr Austin …”  
  
“Ryan,” he corrected.  
  
“I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’re looking for an interview you’ll need to talk to my aide, Lieutenant Jens. She handles all my media engagements.”  
  
“Oh, I’m not a reporter,” he laughed. “Just a fan hoping to get to know the woman behind the legend.”  
  
“I’m hardly a legend, Mr Austin.”  
  
“Ryan,” he repeated. “And I beg to differ, but we can change the subject if you like.”  
  
“I would like.”  
  
“What should we talk about then?” Ryan leaned a hip on the railing, smiling down at her, and Kathryn couldn’t help a small shiver at the obvious interest in his gaze.  
  
She took a small step backward, glancing away from those disconcertingly warm eyes. “Actually, I should probably get back inside –”  
  
“Great.” Ryan straightened up, offering his arm. “Allow me to escort you, Kathryn Janeway who dislikes being called a legend. Maybe you’ll even do me the honour of a dance.”  
  
She studied his face. He seemed sincere enough in his interest, and she didn’t think she’d imagined the way his gaze had lingered on her bare shoulders. And he was undeniably attractive. She felt that tingle along her spine again. It seemed so long since anyone had looked at her that way.  
  
Kathryn raised her chin and smiled back at him, taking his arm. “I’d love to dance.”  
  
There were only a few other couples out on the floor, and Kathryn bit back on a surge of anxiety as knowing smiles turned toward her.  
  
“Ever feel like you’re being watched?” Ryan murmured as he turned her into his hold.  
  
She sighed. “Unnerving, isn’t it. Still want to dance with me?”  
  
“I’m here with the most beautiful woman in Starfleet. Do I look like I care who’s watching?”  
  
Kathryn raised an eyebrow at him. “Most beautiful woman in Starfleet? I know a good doctor if you need your eyes checked.”  
  
“Are you telling me you don’t know how gorgeous you are?” Ryan held her away from him, letting his gaze sweep over her body. “Half the men and women in this room wish they were me right now.”  
  
“I thought we were going to change the subject.”  
  
“Okay,” he said easily, gathering her close again. She forced herself to ignore the way his thumb was stroking her spine, and just how good it felt.  
  
“Tell me about you,” she tried not to stammer.  
  
He shrugged. “I run a small courier company, mostly delivering medical supplies from Federation worlds to planets without the resources to produce their own.”  
  
“A commendable profession,” Kathryn said, then, “Forgive me for being blunt, but what are you doing here?”  
  
“You mean, what’s a small-time businessman doing at this very swanky ball attended by legends?” Ryan smirked down at her. “My dad was a Starfleet admiral who knew how to network. I guess I’ve managed to stay in the inner circle since he died.”  
  
“Admiral Bart Austin?” Kathryn’s eyes widened in recognition. “I remember him – he was a friend of my father’s.”  
  
“Sounds like you and I go way back,” he answered, as his fingertips brushed low on the base of her back.  
  
Kathryn tensed, and felt his fingers slide upward. She couldn’t help the quick glance up under her lashes. He was watching her, pupils dilated. She swallowed around a suddenly dry throat.  
  
“Kathryn.”  
  
“Yes?” she managed.  
  
“Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”  
  
“I can’t – I have somewhere I’m supposed to be …” She was sure she did; her calendar always seemed to be full …  
  
“Cancel it.”  
  
She felt his breath brush her temple.  
  
“I don’t –” she bit her lip. “I don’t even know you.”  
  
The corner of his mouth twitched. “You already know my pedigree. I could send my résumé to your office if you’d like.”  
  
Kathryn’s cheeks reddened.  
  
“I know a place that does the best kung pao noodles in the city,” he cajoled. “It’s quiet and out of the way, and they make a killer coffee.”  
  
“Quiet?” she repeated, tempted. “No paparazzi lurking around the corner?”  
  
“Not a one.”  
  
She tilted her head, unable to stop the smile flirting with her lips. “Good coffee?”  
  
“The best.”  
  
She thought about choices she’d made in the Delta quadrant, and about going home to her empty bed, and she told herself defiantly, _what the hell. Why not?_  
  
“Okay,” she said, letting the smile blossom on her face. “It’s a date.”  


* * *

  
  
Seven was inordinately pleased to find Harry Kim waiting for her when she stepped off the transporter pad on the USS _Mehit_ , one of the brand-new _Hawking_ -class exploratory vessels. They were scheduled to bring its new astrometrics lab online by 1500 hours, and Seven estimated there was almost a full day’s work to do before then.  
  
“Lieutenant,” she greeted him.  
  
Harry held out a hand to help her down from the pad. “Hi, Seven. Ready for launch day?”  
  
“Launch day?”  
  
“Yeah. The Commander-in-Chief is coming by to watch us bring the lab online. I think she wants to crack a bottle of champagne over the console.”  
  
“For what purpose?” Seven arched an eyebrow at him as they strode into the corridor.  
  
He grinned. “It’s a traditional way to celebrate success, Seven. Don’t you remember us christening the slipstream drive back in the DQ?”  
  
She remembered becoming intoxicated on a few sips of champagne and resolving to avoid it from that day on. “Will I be expected to partake?”  
  
Harry snickered. “Don’t worry, nobody will notice if you fake it.”  
  
They entered the lab and Seven immediately strode to the main console, where Ensign Tal Celes was calibrating the long-range sensors. “Status, Ensign?”  
  
“The sensors are distorting the images returned from the farthest areas of scanned space. I’ve been trying to recalibrate, but …” Tal trailed off, stepping aside for Seven.  
  
“Try this algorithm,” Seven suggested, entering the beginning of a code and indicating Tal should take over. She stood by as Tal completed the sequence and the image on the viewscreen came into clearer focus.  
  
“Thanks, Seven,” Tal broke into a smile.  
  
“You almost had it,” Seven praised her. “Continue.”  
  
As they moved away, Harry leaned in close to Seven. “That was impressive.”  
  
“It was a relatively simple numerical sequence.”  
  
“I’m not talking about the algorithm.” Harry pulled her aside, speaking low. “I meant the way you were with Tal. You’ve really figured out how to get the best out of her with a little encouragement.”  
  
Seven met his approving eyes and wondered why Lieutenant Kim’s compliment, and the touch of his hand on her shoulder, caused a small bubble of pleasure to rise in her chest. She dropped her gaze, feeling guilty for a reason she couldn’t name. “It seems Chakotay’s guidance has provided me with a positive influence.”  
  
“Of course.” Harry dropped his hand from her shoulder and stepped back, his smile fading. “Well, I guess we should get to work.”  
  
They logged into their consoles and as Seven initiated a diagnostic she found herself becoming distracted by Lieutenant Kim’s physical presence beside her. Her peripheral vision was focused on the movement of his hands across the controls. She imagined those capable fingers smoothing across her shoulders, weaving into her hair, cradling her face …  
  
Flushing, Seven forced her attention back to the program she was running and resolved to set aside some time when she was alone to examine the confusing array of emotions she’d begun to experience whenever she was in close proximity to Harry Kim.  


* * *

  
  
Kathryn was surprised to find that in fact, there was no need to cancel some tedious official function to make her date with Ryan Austin. For the first time in what seemed like months she had the evening free.  
  
Despite her resentment of Fleet Admiral Kjogo’s micro-management of her life, there were a few advantages to it, Kathryn reflected as she stepped out of the sonic shower and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel.  
  
For one thing, she never had to fret about finding something to wear. Her wardrobe had never been so expansive, nor her clothing so beautifully tailored to her exact specifications.  
  
For another, those specifications – thanks to her army of beauty specialists and that drill sergeant of a personal trainer – had never been so streamlined. Kathryn dropped the towel and inspected her reflection. She hadn’t been kidding when she complained to Kjogo that she’d never worked out so hard in her life, and it showed. There wasn’t an ounce of extra weight on her, her muscles were lean and strong, her skin glowed and her hair shone.  
  
Kathryn performed a small pirouette in front of the mirror and couldn’t help a smirk of satisfaction. She would never fill out a catsuit to Seven of Nine’s proportions, but she was pretty sure she’d give her former protégée a run for her money these days. She’d love to see Chakotay’s expression if –  
  
She cut off that rebellious train of thought immediately.  
  
Moving to the wardrobe, Kathryn flicked through the hangers, trying to decide what would be an appropriate outfit for a dinner date. _A date_ , she thought, with a brief rise of excitement. It had been so long, she wasn’t even sure what to do on a date.  
  
She selected a lightweight, navy-blue dress and turned to her bureau. The drawers were overflowing with lingerie of all kinds. Picking up a matched set in skimpy red lace, she huffed out a laugh. There was nothing Starfleet-issue about these.  
  
She started to put them back in the drawer, then hesitated. It wasn’t as though she had any intention of modelling them tonight, but it had been so long since she wore something indulgent just for herself instead of whatever her stylist decided would maximise the optics.  
  
Defiantly, Kathryn put on the lingerie, slipped on the dress and twisted her hair into a loose knot at the base of her neck. A light application of makeup, some perfume and a pair of stiletto heels, and she was ready.  
  
There was still half an hour until she was due to meet Ryan at the restaurant, and she had no idea what to do with herself until then.  
  
She spent five minutes rearranging the flowers in one of the vases on the drinks cabinet, ten minutes checking her messages and confirming her calendar for the next week, and a further five fiddling with her hair, trying all the while to ignore the hastening of her heartbeat. _It’s just dinner_ , she rolled her eyes at herself.  
  
Dinner, with an attractive man she barely knew.  
  
Maybe that was why she was so nervous. For seven years she’d lived with the same people, give or take a few. She knew the names, the hobbies and foibles, the strengths and the weaknesses and the personal histories of every single person on her ship. And here was this man – this good-looking, interesting, _interested_ man – who was also a complete stranger, and she was anxious because he was somebody she knew nothing about. Somebody she’d have to get to know.  
  
Somebody who’d expect her to open up to him.  
  
Her throat closed over at that thought, and before she could second-guess herself, Kathryn had poured two fingers of scotch into a glass and slugged it.  
  
So that was what terrified her. Letting someone in, laying bare all of her quirks and imperfections. She wouldn’t be the captain – aloof and unknowable – if Ryan Austin turned out to be someone she wanted to spend time with. There would be no hiding her feelings behind the impenetrable wall of protocol.  
  
She could get hurt.  
  
Kathryn scoffed out loud. As if it hadn’t hurt to keep herself apart all those years. As if it hadn’t hurt to pretend she felt nothing more than friendship and obligation for the people she loved. As if it hadn’t _hurt_ to swallow the bitter knowledge that, by her own actions, she’d pushed away the man who, once upon a time, had loved her too.  
  
The alarm on her personal console chimed, making her jump. So much for being ready early – now she’d have to hurry if she wanted to make it to the restaurant on time. Pulling a light wrap around her shoulders, Kathryn activated the personal transport device Kjogo had insisted she carry and rematerialised in a small, dimly-lit entry foyer.  
  
“Kathryn.”  
  
Ryan was waiting for her, leaning against the bar, tall and lean in a dark-grey suit. She smiled in answer to his lit-up grin and moved toward him.  
  
“Hi.” She felt suddenly shy as she approached, but then he took hold of her hand and leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek – warm, and somehow comforting – and she felt her trepidation dissolve. He smelled good, woody and spicy, and she didn’t want to move away.  
  
“Hi,” he replied, pulling back slightly to smile at her. “You look amazing. Are you hungry?”  
  
“Famished,” she realised.  
  
“Great.” Ryan nodded to someone behind her. “This is Liang – he’s the owner and head chef here. I’ve left the menu to him, but trust me, you’ll love his food.”  
  
Kathryn turned to face the short, smiling man in the white apron.  
  
“Admiral Janeway, it’s an honour.” Liang smiled. “I’ll show you to your table.”  
  
As they followed him, Kathryn glanced around and frowned. “We’re the only ones here.”  
  
“Well, you mentioned that you were sick of being the centre of attention, so I booked the place out.” Ryan ducked his head sheepishly, tugging on his ear.  
  
The gesture was so familiar and yet so out of place that Kathryn blanched, her step faltering.  
  
“Kathryn?” Ryan turned back to her. “I’m sorry, did I overstep?”  
  
“No … no,” she said faintly. “It was … very thoughtful. Thank you.”  
  
Ryan held her chair for her as she sank into it, crossing her legs. He slid into the seat opposite as Liang filled their wine glasses. She found it hard to return his smile.  
  
“Is everything okay?” he murmured after Liang had recited the dishes he planned to cook for them and disappeared into the kitchen.  
  
Kathryn straightened her shoulders, forcing herself to meet his clear gaze. “Everything’s fine,” she assured him.  
  
“Good,” Ryan answered, reaching across the table to take her hand between his. “Because I’ve been looking forward to this since last night, and I was kind of hoping you have, too.”  
  
A small flutter of pleasure began in her fingertips, encased in his warm hands, and spread throughout her body, and Kathryn reminded herself to let go of all the things that might have been and concentrate on what could be.  
  
“Actually, I have,” she told him with a slow smile, and Ryan relaxed into his chair and raised his wine to her.  
  
The food was as delicious as he’d promised and the conversation surprisingly easy. They found they had several acquaintances in common as well as a shared Starfleet childhood, and Kathryn enjoyed Ryan’s dry humour and slightly wicked commentary on everything from the political landscape to the music she’d missed during seven years in exile. By the time they finished dinner and a bottle of wine, Kathryn realised with a slight start that it was almost midnight.  
  
“I’d better go,” she said regretfully, rising from her chair. “I have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”  
  
“May I walk you home?” Ryan asked, standing to help her on with her wrap.  
  
“No need.” Kathryn held up the small personal transporter.  
  
“Friends in high places,” Ryan grinned. “In that case, Kathryn – can I see you again? Soon?”  
  
“I’d like that.”  
  
“Then I’ll call you tomorrow.” He took a step closer and Kathryn found herself holding her breath as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.  
  
“Okay,” she said, slightly breathless.  
  
Their eyes locked, and Kathryn knew he was going to kiss her. And she was going to let him.  
  
The instant before his mouth touched hers, she let her eyes drift shut and the face she’d been trying so hard to forget flashed behind her closed lids … but then she felt Ryan’s warm lips brushing hers, and a bolt of lust so strong it was shocking seared through her. She gasped, her hands coming up to clutch his shoulders, and he took advantage of her opened mouth to lick inside, his tongue stroking lightly against hers. She felt his hands, one on her hip, one flat against her lower back, and couldn’t stop herself from leaning into him. It felt … God, she felt almost insane, so strong was her desire for him.  
  
It was that fleeting thought that dragged her back to reality, and Kathryn stepped back away from him, her breath coming fast.  
  
“What –” she started, then shook her head. She’d never felt anything like that before – a physical, visceral need so immediate, so intense, she’d been half afraid she’d let him strip her and take her right there in the restaurant.  
  
She dragged a trembling hand across her mouth and tried to catch her breath.  
  
“I know it’s … been awhile since I –” she broke off. “What _was_ that?”  
  
“You felt it too?”  
  
Ryan’s chest was rising and falling quickly too, but she thought he looked a whole lot more in control than she felt. Then again, he probably hadn’t gone without close physical contact for the majority of the past seven years.  
  
She gave a short nod. “I felt it.”  
  
He seemed to be regaining his composure; he raked a hand through his hair and gave her a sidelong smile. “I don’t know, Kathryn. I guess we’re just … extremely compatible.”  
  
She choked out a laugh. “I guess so.”  
  
“So I’ll call you tomorrow.”  
  
Kathryn twined her fingers in her wrap, holding it together over her chest. “Tomorrow,” she repeated. “Good night, Ryan.”  
  
“Good night, Kathryn,” he replied, and she activated her transporter, suddenly relieved that she was heading home to solitude and order.  


* * *

  
  
“So what’s this I hear about the two of you inventing some new astrometric array that can find a needle in a haystack?” Tom Paris asked, gently turning a milk-drunk Miral against his shoulder. “We ran into Tal Celes last week and she couldn’t stop talking about it.”  
  
“It sounds impressive,” B’Elanna chimed in. “What did Tal say – it works on a gravimetric oscillation principle? If we’d had something like that in the Delta, we might’ve been able to find a wormhole and get home even sooner.”  
  
Harry Kim shrugged modestly. “It was Seven’s design that made it possible.”  
  
“Lieutenant Kim is exaggerating. Without his input, we never would have developed the new sensor configuration.”  
  
“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Harry?”  
  
“Apparently, more times than you have already asked me, Lieutenant,” Seven replied with a trace of a smile.  
  
Tom and B’Elanna exchanged a silent, loaded glance as their lunch companions continued to banter. It was clear that the past few months of working closely together had turned Harry and Seven’s previously professional relationship into something more familiar, and B’Elanna was torn.  
  
Her long-held antipathy for Seven had muted into respect and even a grudging, slightly competitive friendship, and she had often thought that Harry was a much better match for the former Borg than Chakotay. But Chakotay was one of her oldest friends, and if Seven broke his heart or hurt him in any way, B’Elanna would personally rip the blonde woman’s elegant throat out.  
  
Not for the first time, she wondered just how deeply Chakotay’s feelings ran for Seven. The chemistry between Seven and Harry was exponentially more evident than the lukewarm regard she thought she saw in Chakotay’s eyes when she saw him and Seven together.  
  
B’Elanna’s thoughts wandered to the last time she’d seen Chakotay with their former captain. It had been a couple of days before their untimely trip back to the Alpha quadrant, and the elder Admiral Janeway – the one from a future that now would never be – had been aboard _Voyager_. B’Elanna had been at her upper workstation in Engineering, running some calculations on _Voyager_ ’s new shielding, when she heard voices – hushed and livid – from the level below.  
  
She’d glanced down and seen the captain and Chakotay glaring at each other, their body language clearly combative despite their lowered voices. All she heard was a snatch of Chakotay’s words: “… insane plan? … keeping secrets from me again, Kathryn,” and the captain’s terse reply – “Then we make a fine pair, don’t we, Commander?” before she turned and stalked away.  
  
Chakotay had stared after her, jaw set and eyes hot, raking a frustrated hand through his hair before he growled softly and marched off in the opposite direction. And even then – when they were so obviously at odds – B’Elanna remembered more heat crackling between them than she’d ever observed between Chakotay and Seven, even on the one occasion she’d been unable to avoid seeing them kiss.  
  
And on the day of Miral’s birth she’d expected Janeway to visit her in Sickbay, but Chakotay had turned up alone and obviously unsettled. She had thought then that he was just shell-shocked from their trip through the Borg conduit, but she wondered now if that had been the moment of the final break between him and Janeway. Because they certainly hadn’t spoken since –  
  
“Earth to B’Elanna,” Tom drawled lazily, and she snapped back into focus to find the three of them watching her.  
  
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Lost in thought.”  
  
Seven pushed back her chair and stood. “If you will excuse me, I must return to the _Mehit_. It has been pleasant dining with you, Commanders.”  
  
“Call me Tom.”  
  
Harry snorted. “Good luck with that. See you back there in an hour, Seven. I have to run a couple of errands first.”  
  
“Very well, Lieu- _Harry_ ,” Seven corrected herself, one corner of her full mouth lifting as Harry grinned back at her in delight. His gaze followed her as she walked away.  
  
Tom and B’Elanna exchanged another glance, full of shared meaning.  
  
“Harry, Harry, Harry,” sighed Tom. “What are we going to do with you?”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“Don’t get defensive, Starfleet,” B’Elanna chimed in. “It’s obvious you’re still holding an Olympic-sized torch for our Borg queen.”  
  
“Don’t call her that,” Kim scowled. “And I’m not.”  
  
“Whatever you say, _Lieutenant_ ,” smirked Paris.  
  
“Can we talk about something else?”  
  
“Actually,” B’Elanna relented, “I was just thinking about Janeway. She hasn’t returned my last few messages, or Tom’s. I don’t suppose you or Seven have heard from her?”  
  
Harry shook his head. “I haven’t spoken to her since her promotion ceremony. As far as I know, Seven hasn’t heard from her either.”  
  
“Neither has Chakotay,” B’Elanna muttered.  
  
“Doesn’t that seem sad to you?” Kim asked. “I mean, they were so close.”  
  
“ _Were_ being the operative word.” Paris rubbed his daughter’s back as Miral snuffled sleepily into his shoulder. “I guess that all changed when he and Seven hooked up.”  
  
“That’s not Seven’s fault,” Harry shot back.  
  
“It’s not _all_ her fault,” B’Elanna conceded. “Chakotay has to take at least half the blame. Idiot,” she added under her breath.  
  
This time it was Tom and Harry who exchanged a glance. B’Elanna noticed.  
  
“Okay, okay,” she raised her hands, “if he wants to make stupid life decisions I can’t stop him. So, Harry, since you’re apparently not interested in Seven, who’s your latest inappropriate crush? Please don’t tell me it’s Tal Celes.”  
  
Kim rolled his eyes as he scraped his chair back from the table and stood. “It’s been great catching up. See you next time you’re bored and need someone to pick on.”  
  
He bent to place a kiss on Miral’s dark head and another on B’Elanna’s cheek before he walked away.  
  
“She’s an idiot, too,” B’Elanna said speculatively, watching Harry leave. “I hope she realises what she’s missing out on before it’s too late.”  
  
“Who?” Tom asked her. “Seven or Janeway?”  
  
“Both.”  


* * *

  
  
“Good morning, Admiral.” Lieutenant Jens rose from behind her desk in the anteroom, moving smoothly to keep pace with Kathryn as she swept into her office. “I have today’s schedule for you. There’s only one change – Admiral Kjogo wants to see you at 1100 hours, so I’ve pushed back your personal training session to 1600.”  
  
Kathryn paused in the act of switching on her monitor to glance up at her aide. “Did the admiral say why she wants to meet?”  
  
“No, ma’am.” Jens handed her a padd. “Your messages.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
Kathryn flicked through them, ignoring the majority, and paused at a short note from Admiral Paris asking if she was free for lunch sometime that century. She looked up at Jens, who stood poker-straight with her hands clasped behind her back. Kathryn was momentarily struck by her aide’s resemblance to Seven of Nine; Tora’s hair, though walnut-brown instead of blonde, was pulled back in the chignon Seven had favoured on _Voyager_ , and with her large blue eyes, full lips and slender limbs, she could have been Seven’s cousin. A wave of nostalgia and longing swept through her, forcing Kathryn to clear her throat and blink rapidly.  
  
“Lieutenant, could you find a lunch opening in my calendar for Owen Paris?” She forced her voice steady. “The sooner the better, please.”  
  
“Of course. Can I get you a coffee?”  
  
Kathryn managed a brief smile. “You have to ask?”  
  
Jens strode out to the anteroom, returning with a fresh, steaming cup which Kathryn lifted gratefully, closing her eyes as she inhaled the steam. When she opened her eyes, her aide was grinning at her.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Just,” Tora shook her head, “the look on your face. It makes me want to give up sex in favour of coffee.”  
  
Kathryn choked on the sip she’d just taken, and Jens laughed. “Sorry, Admiral, but surely I’m not the first person to comment on that?”  
  
“Actually, my first officer –” she caught herself, shifting her gaze away. “No, I guess you aren’t the first.”  
  
“Well, I’ll leave you two alone.” Tora backed toward the door, still smirking. “Call me if you need anything.”  
  
The door slid closed behind her, and Kathryn leaned back in her chair, her mood turned sour.  
  
She worked steadily for the next few hours on an analysis of the revised Japori-Federation trade agreement – she was scheduled to meet the Japori ambassador the following day, and fully intended to quiz her about her request for increased Starfleet presence on their trade routes – until Jens poked her head around the doorway. “It’s almost 1100 hours, Admiral.”  
  
Kathryn couldn’t quite suppress a sigh. Straightening her hair and steeling her spine, she took the ‘lift to Kjogo’s palatial office on the top floor of the building.  
  
“Admiral Janeway to see Fleet Admiral Kjogo,” she informed the lieutenant manning the desk.  
  
“Yes, ma’am. If you’ll take a seat, the admiral will see you shortly.”  
  
_Take a seat_ , Kathryn thought darkly. _I guess even the hero of the Delta quadrant occasionally gets treated like a wayward child waiting to see the schoolmaster_. Smirking to herself, she activated her padd and continued working on her analysis while she waited.  
  
And waited.  
  
It wasn’t until after her third, increasingly unamused query to the blond lieutenant at the desk that she was finally summoned into the admiral’s inner sanctum.  
  
“Oh, there you are, Kathryn,” Kjogo said absently, but it was a further five minutes before she put down her padd and turned her attention to her visitor.  
  
Kathryn stood and stared at her, forcibly keeping her annoyance in check.  
  
“Well, you look a little happier this morning,” Kjogo remarked frankly after thoroughly glancing her over. “If I had to guess, I’d say you enjoyed your date last night.”  
  
“My date?” Kathryn said faintly. “How did you know?”  
  
“Did you really think I wouldn’t hear about it? Ryan Austin, entrepreneur, son of the late Admiral Bart Austin.” Kjogo appraised her, then shrugged. “You could do worse. He’s photogenic, charismatic, and he’s successful enough to give the press hounds something to write about.”  
  
Kathryn’s jaw dropped. “I beg your pardon?”  
  
“I’m giving you my blessing, Kathryn. Actually, I’m quite impressed. It’s about time you enjoyed a little romance, and Mr Austin is an appropriate partner for you. Yes, I think the pair of you will play well in the media.”  
  
“I –” she shook her head in disbelief. “Admiral, this is a step too far. My private life is not up for public consumption.”  
  
“Please don’t make me go through this again – it’s becoming tiresome. You’re a public figure now, like it or not, and everything you do will come under scrutiny. The spotlight is your friend, but only if you know how to influence it. Don’t forget that, not even for a moment. Which reminds me, Kathryn…” Kjogo stood, ushering her toward the door, “your former crew have been quite irritatingly persistent in their attempts to claim your time and energy. I instructed Lieutenant Jens to keep their distraction to a minimum, but I wanted to make sure you also understand the need to continue to distance yourself from them.”  
  
Kathryn slowed her tread, digging her heels into the soft carpet. “Distance myself? Admiral, I haven’t seen a single member of my crew in weeks. How much more distant could I get?”  
  
“ _Former_ crew,” Kjogo emphasised.  
  
“And what do you mean, you instructed Tora to keep them away from me?”  
  
“They’re a millstone around your neck. Particularly that Maquis of yours – Jens tells me he’s been quite tenacious. Still, his new job should keep him out of your way, which is good. We don’t want the paparazzi starting any of the wrong kind of rumours.” Kjogo all but pushed her out the door. “Make sure Austin takes you somewhere a little more public on your next date, won’t you? And don’t forget to smile for the cameras.”  
  
Before she could gather her outrage to formulate a reply, the door slid closed in Kathryn’s face.


	5. Imperium Ludum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life kicked my ass this week, so this update took a little longer than expected... sorry!

You’re the only one who comes when I call  
You're the only one who comes when I'm lonely for you  
When I'm lonely for you …  
All that I need is  
Sweet escape  
– Dean Lewis, _Need You Now_

* * *

 

 ** _Chapter Four: Imperium Ludum_**  
_September, 2378_  
  
  
Chakotay had made several more attempts to contact Kathryn since he’d seen the news images of her on Tau Ceti Prime. But when he still hadn’t heard from her almost two months later, he told himself to accept the fact that she didn’t want him in her life.  
  
It was fortunate that he was so busy he barely had time to eat or sleep, let alone brood.  
  
His undercover team consisted of Ensign Kelar, a Vulcan communications expert, and Lieutenant Tilly Davis, a Nova Squadron pilot who’d graduated from the same Advanced Tactics course Chakotay used to teach. The two team members had hitched a ride to Midrian, where Davis had purchased a shuttle and posed as a small-time goods courier, picking up small trade runs through the Borderlands in the hope of attracting attention from the wrong kind of people.  
  
By the end of August, Chakotay had received word that Davis had managed to scan the Celendi Nebula and locate a small space station in orbit of a Class H planet, deep inside the gas cloud. For such a remote and inaccessible location, that spaceport saw a lot of traffic.  
  
Chakotay was studying the sensor logs Kelar had relayed back from Davis’ shuttle when he glanced up to find an unfamiliar man in civilian wear leaning in his office doorway. Startled, he almost dropped his cup of tea.  
  
“How did you get in here?”  
  
The man offered him a smile; Chakotay doubted its sincerity. “Hello, Captain Chakotay. It’s nice to make your acquaintance at last.”  
  
Chakotay got to his feet. “Who are you?”  
  
“My name is Jonah Miles.” The man uncoiled himself from the doorframe and walked toward him, hand held out in greeting. “I let myself in. I hope you don’t mind.”  
  
“Actually, I do.” Chakotay ignored the outstretched hand, sizing the man up. He was somewhat unassuming; slight, several centimetres shorter than Chakotay, with mid-brown hair and hazel eyes. “This is a secure building. I’ll need to see your Starfleet identification and confirm your security clearance.”  
  
The man laughed a little. “I’m not with Starfleet, Captain, and you can only dream of a security clearance as high as mine. Perhaps we should sit down so I can explain why I’m here.”  
  
“I don’t think so,” Chakotay answered evenly, reaching for the comm key on his console. “I’ll have to contact Starfleet Security and have you taken into custody.”  
  
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Jonah Miles’ voice remained pleasant. “Touch that console and I’m afraid I’ll have to break your arm.”  
  
Chakotay sent him a disbelieving stare and tapped the key. “Chakotay to Security. Send a team to –”  
  
He never finished his sentence. Jonah Miles moved so fast he was a blur, and the next thing Chakotay knew he was on his knees, left arm twisted behind his back, Miles’ foot on his neck. Miles gave his arm a slight push and Chakotay wheezed in pain.  
  
“Ready to listen, Mr Chakotay?” Miles asked amiably.  
  
“What the hell do you want?” he gritted out.  
  
Miles eased up on the pressure. “I want to talk to you. I have no intention of doing you harm. I simply have a proposal that I think you might find interesting.” He paused. “If I let you up, will you hear me out?”  
  
“Do I have a choice?”  
  
“Not really,” Miles said pleasantly. He released his grip and Chakotay straightened up, rubbing his aching shoulder. “Take a seat.”  
  
Grudgingly, Chakotay hauled himself to his feet and dropped into his desk chair. Miles seated himself neatly opposite.  
  
“All right, you’ve got my attention. Now tell me what you want.”  
  
“I want to help you, Captain. Your tactics are sound, but your team out there in the Borderlands is going to fail because you don’t have nearly enough information.”  
  
Chakotay went still. “How the hell do you know about that? It’s classified –”  
  
“I told you,” Miles interrupted, “I have a very high clearance. Now, if you’ll permit me to continue?”  
  
Chakotay gave a short nod.  
  
“Your investigation of the Fermola miners will lead nowhere, because those insurgents have either been disposed of or absorbed into a much larger and more powerful organisation. We know it as the Entera Coalition.”  
  
“Who’s ‘we’?”  
  
“I’ll get to that. We believe whoever is behind Entera intends to control not only the interstellar trade routes, but the politics of Cardassia, Qo’noS, Romulus and Earth. A lofty goal, you might say, but an attainable one if you have influence over the right people. If you control the flow of supplies you control the economics, and therefore the politics.”  
  
Chakotay shook his head in disbelief. “And you think this is all down to a single megalomaniac?”  
  
“Don’t be naïve, Captain. It’s not called a coalition for nothing – this alliance is made up of a number of very powerful people with equally powerful friends.”  
  
“Why are you telling me all this? What do you want?”  
  
“We have information and resources that Starfleet doesn’t, and we’re prepared to share them with you to progress your investigation. We can work from behind the scenes, but recruiting you would lend us a certain … respectability, shall we say? Your current position and your background make you the ideal person for this mission.”  
  
“Recruiting me?” Chakotay watched him evenly. “I think it’s time you told me who you are.”  
  
“Very well.” Miles hooked one leg over the opposite knee. “I represent an autonomous agency with broad-ranging intelligence and defensive authority. We investigate, and deal with, threats to the integrity and security of the Federation.”  
  
“An autonomous agency?” Chakotay leaned forward. “You’re describing the functions delegated to Starfleet Intelligence, Mr Miles. How, exactly, does your agency – whoever you are – deal with threats to Federation security?”  
  
“In whichever manner is most expedient, Captain. We aren’t bound by the regulations and protocols laid out in the Federation Charter, though it does contain provision for the agency I represent. However, the agency’s origins are unimportant. What’s of interest here is how we can help you.”  
  
“You’re serious,” Chakotay said slowly, studying him. “You’re talking about an organisation that goes beyond black ops and into the realm of the Obsidian Order, Mr Miles. I can’t believe Starfleet would allow such an agency to exist.”  
  
Jonah Miles smiled at him. “Officially, Starfleet doesn’t know about us, because officially we don’t exist. In reality we have quite a number of Starfleet officers in our ranks, as well as many talented civilians. We’ve been observing you, and several others from _Voyager_ ’s crew, for some time, in fact, with the intention of recruiting you.”  
  
“And you selected me because of my current post?”  
  
“In part.”  
  
“Have you attempted to coerce anyone else from _Voyager_ into joining your secret police?”  
  
“There’s no need for aggression, Captain. We’re on your side.”  
  
“Just answer the question.”  
  
“I’m afraid I can’t – for your own protection, and that of the agency.”  
  
“I see.” Chakotay folded his arms. “Well, Mr Miles, I have no intention of joining your agency, so here’s a proposal for you. You tell me everything you know about the Entera Coalition and your little secret organisation, and I’ll consider not handing you over to Security.”  
  
“Really, Captain, I’d hoped for a little less obstinacy from a former Maquis. You won’t have anything to hand over to Starfleet Security, because the moment I leave this office you’ll discover that there’s no evidence I was ever here. So could we dispense with the posturing and get down to business?”  
  
“Okay, I’ll bite. What do you want?”  
  
“We want you to infiltrate Entera.”  
  
“I already have a covert team on that mission. As you well know.”  
  
“And as I’ve just explained, your team is blundering in the dark. You, however, can forge the proper connections with our help. You’ll start by appearing to investigate Entera through your official position with Intelligence. As time goes on, you’ll begin to see the appeal of joining the Coalition – power, wealth, influence – and you’ll perform whatever tasks they assign to you in order to work your way through the echelons. You’ll have to retain your post, of course, and feed just enough information back to Starfleet to satisfy your superiors that you’re doing your job, as well as sharing intelligence data with Entera to assuage their suspicions of you. Meanwhile, you’ll keep me fully informed. At such time as my agency decides we have enough information to shut Entera down, you’ll be excused from our service.”  
  
“Shut Entera down,” Chakotay repeated. “You mean, you’re going to find out whoever’s behind it and assassinate them.”  
  
Miles inclined his head. “If need be.”  
  
“And why would I get involved in this?”  
  
“Because if you don’t, Captain, people you care about are going to die.”

* * *

  
  
Kathryn Janeway stormed into her office suite and came to an abrupt standstill at her aide’s desk. “Lieutenant Jens, my office. Now.”  
  
Tora Jens rose from her seat, standing at ease just inside the door as Kathryn paced before her.  
  
“I’ve just come from seeing Admiral Kjogo,” Kathryn grated, steel glaring into Jens’ blue eyes. “Imagine my surprise when she informed me that you’ve been intercepting messages from my crew.”  
  
Jens lowered her eyelashes. “I was under orders, ma’am.”  
  
“Oh, I’m aware of that, and it’s the only reason I’m not kicking you out on your ass this minute.” Kathryn folded her arms. “But from now on, you either work for me or you don’t. If you choose to stay, you keep nothing from me. If you can’t do that I’ll find myself a new aide. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes, Admiral.”  
  
“Good. I want to see every communication you’ve received from every member of my crew since you started working in this office. Now.”  
  
“I’ll send them to your console immediately.”  
  
Jens turned to leave, then swivelled back to face Kathryn. Her lips were pressed together and she was visibly agitated.  
  
“What is it?” Kathryn demanded.  
  
“Intercepting your messages was wrong, and I’m sorry,” Tora rushed in. “But I think Admiral Kjogo had your best interests at heart. She told me she was concerned for your personal security.”  
  
Kathryn’s eyebrows rose. “So she asked you to protect me from what? My former crewmates? The ones I’d served with for the past seven years and trust with my life?”  
  
“When you put it like that, it sounds questionable,” Jens mumbled. She cleared her throat. “But Admiral, I do agree that you need to be kept safe, and sometimes –”  
  
“Sometimes … what?” Kathryn’s voice had taken on a dangerous edge.  
  
Tora straightened. “Sometimes you take risks with your own safety,” she answered. “For example, what do you know about Mr Austin? Have you had him vetted? Because I’d be happy to arrange –”  
  
“Stop right there, Lieutenant.”  
  
Wisely, Jens shut up. Kathryn faced away from her, struggling with her temper, before turning back to address her aide in a tone that could have stripped duranium.  
  
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Kathryn ground out. “My personal life and the people I choose to spend time with are none of your concern, and they are _certainly_ none of Admiral Kjogo’s. All I need to know about Mr Austin is what he chooses to share with me. And all _you_ need to know about him, Lieutenant, is that my relationship with him is none of your business. _Do you understand me_?”  
  
Tora swallowed visibly. “Yes ma’am. I understand.”  
  
“In that case,” Kathryn jerked her head at the door, “dismissed.”  
  
Alone, she lowered herself onto her desk chair and rubbed her temples, deliberately tamping down the fury that had been building ever since Kjogo’s incredible revelation. Her console chirruped and she scanned the list of messages Jens had kept from her over the past several months. Unsurprisingly, they’d petered out as time passed. She wondered how many of her former crew now thought her a social climber who had no time for the people who’d once been her family.  
  
It hurt.  
  
“Computer, filter messages by sender and display only those from Commander – I mean, Captain Chakotay.”  
  
_11 messages from sender Captain Chakotay_ , the computer displayed.  
  
The most recent one was from a couple of weeks ago. With a trepidation she couldn’t quite reconcile, Kathryn pressed ‘play’.  
  
_Hello, Kathryn_.  
  
She sucked in a breath as his once-so-familiar face lit up the screen. He’d let the grey come back in at his temples and his face was leaner, his shoulders bulkier in the uniform; clearly, he’d taken care to get himself into his best shape since their return. The dark circles were long gone from under his eyes and his skin glowed with health. He looked so good it made her heart ache.  
  
_I know how busy you must be_ , Chakotay continued onscreen. _And I guess I’m a bit slow on the uptake, but it’s pretty clear you prefer to leave our friendship back on_ Voyager. _So I won’t contact you again, Kathryn. But I want you to know that if you ever need me for anything, all you have to do is call_.  
  
He glanced down, tugging his ear, then up again with a small smile. _I hope you’ll call. I miss you_. He hesitated, then placed his hand on the screen, fingers slightly curled as though she could twine her own into them. _Goodbye, Kathryn_.  
  
Just as she reached out to touch the screen, his image faded to black.  
  
“Computer, open a comm channel to Captain –” she began, but the computer interrupted her.  
  
_Incoming call for Admiral Kathryn Janeway_.  
  
“Who’s the caller?”  
  
_Ryan Austin_.  
  
“Damn it,” she swore involuntarily, refusing to analyse her disappointment. “On screen.”  
  
Ryan’s handsome face beamed at her from the small monitor. ~Kathryn. How are you?~  
  
“Hi.” She couldn’t help smiling back at him, blushing as she remembered last night’s incredible kiss.  
  
~Are you busy tonight?~  
  
She blinked. “You don’t waste time. Let me check…” she glanced quickly at her schedule, then shook her head. “Looks like I’m free. What did you have in mind?”  
  
~Well, I don’t know if it’s your scene, but I have theatre tickets for the premiere of _Golden Shadows_ tonight. Have you heard of it? It’s by a new Andorian playwright who’s been winning awards all over the place.~  
  
“I haven’t seen a play in years,” Kathryn admitted. “I’d love to go with you.”  
  
~I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll pick you up at eight. Wear something stunning.~ Ryan’s eyes grew warm. ~And maybe afterwards we could go to this little bar I know. They make the best cocktails in San Francisco.~  
  
“I can’t wait,” Kathryn answered, and Ryan grinned at her as he signed off.  
  
She eased back in her chair, allowing herself to daydream for a moment about tall, attractive near-strangers and heated kisses. About the novelty and excitement of being courted; the pleasure of getting to know somebody new.  
  
Then she thought about Chakotay, and about untangling the complicated threads of a friendship so infused with shared history and unspoken feeling. About pretending she felt nothing more than friendship for him, while enduring the torment of having her heart ripped freshly open every time she saw him.  
  
She wasn’t sure she had the strength to do it anymore; not with her life the way it was now. She needed all her emotional fortitude just to deal with the crazy hours and the politics and the isolation, not to mention Admiral Kjogo. And though it physically hurt, deep in the pit of her stomach, to contemplate her life without Chakotay in it, she wondered if a clean break wouldn’t be kindest in the long run.  
  
After all, she couldn’t rely on him twenty-four-seven anymore. He had other commitments.  
  
Swallowing hard, Kathryn ordered the computer to delete Chakotay’s unread, unanswered messages.

* * *

  
  
“Computer, open a secure line to Sekaya of Trebus. Encrypt communications.”  
  
It took a few minutes before his screen flickered to life and Chakotay’s sister was grinning at him, hair tangled, a chubby baby sleeping in her arms.  
  
~Hello there, big brother.~  
  
“Sekaya,” he said, relieved. “It’s good to see you well.”  
  
~And you too. How’s Seven?~  
  
“She’s fine. Busy working on a new starship. Listen, Sekky, I need to talk to you. Are you alone?”  
  
~Yes, except for Shiye here, but he doesn’t talk much.~  
  
Chakotay laughed. “He’s grown so much since Seven and I visited.”  
  
~Babies do. What is it you need to talk about, Amal?~  
  
“I was wondering if you’d had an influx of new settlers recently.”  
  
Sekaya grimaced. ~How did you know? A group of Trialans and Regulans came two months ago to scout the northern continent. According to Nata they’ve found a dilithium mine, but you know how trustworthy she is.~  
  
“In this case, she may be telling the truth. Sekaya, I want you to stay clear of those miners. I doubt they have Trebus’ best interests at heart.”  
  
~What are you not telling me, brother?~ Sekaya narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
“I can’t tell you much,” Chakotay said reluctantly. “But there’s a new trade empire based in the Borderlands and their intentions are dubious. I have it on good authority that the miners from the Borderlands worlds might be intending to use Trebus as a secondary base of operations to extend their influence into the Cardassian Union.”  
  
_‘Good authority’ might be stretching it a bit_ , he conceded silently. He didn’t trust Jonah Miles as far as he could throw him.  
  
Sekaya looked alarmed. ~They told the elders they only planned to stay for a few months, and asked permission to conduct scouting surveys. If they really have found a pure source of dilithium they’ll never leave Trebus.~  
  
“And they’ll do whatever they can to force our people off the planet,” Chakotay agreed grimly.  
  
Sekaya swore under her breath. ~If it’s not the spoonheads or the ‘fleeters, it’s the merchants. Why can’t they all just leave us be?~  
  
“I’ll have a Starfleet patrol sent out,” Chakotay promised. “And call me immediately the moment you get a whiff of any kind of trouble.”  
  
~I will. I’ll let the elders know what’s going on, as well.~  
  
“Take care of yourself, sister.”  
  
~And you,~ Sekaya said softly, signing off.  
  
Chakotay leaned back in his chair.  
  
So Jonah Miles had told the truth about what was happening on Trebus, at least. He still didn’t trust the man, but Miles had certainly known which buttons to push.  
  
He tapped his console and entered the complex code Miles had provided to him.  
  
~Captain,~ Miles greeted him when the comm channel opened. ~Can I assume you’re calling to accept our offer?~  
  
“Against my better judgement, yes,” Chakotay said shortly. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

* * *

  
  
“Wow,” Ryan said as Kathryn opened her apartment door. “ _Wow_.”  
  
She couldn’t stop the smirk twisting her lips. “Okay, I was going for stunning, like you asked, but _wow_ will do nicely.”  
  
“I actually think I’ve run out of superlatives,” he answered as she shrugged a wrap on over the ‘wow’ dress. It was creamy and silky and softly-draped and it made her feel incredible, and she was perhaps overly pleased that it had had the desired effect on her date. She slipped her hand through the crook of Ryan’s arm as he led her to the waiting hovercab.  
  
Bulbs flashed as they emerged at the theatre. Kathryn’s first instinct was to duck and run, but remembering Kjogo’s admonishment, she straightened instead, smiling for the cameras as Ryan ushered her inside. “Sorry about that,” she murmured when they were seated in their private box. “I should’ve guessed there would be paparazzi here on opening night.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” he said easily. “I made sure they got my good side.”  
  
She laughed.  
  
The lights dimmed and the play began, and it was utterly terrible except for Ryan’s sarcastically muttered asides, which kept her grinning until the curtain fell.  
  
“Do you feel like a drink?” Ryan looped her hand through his arm as they left the theatre, leaning in close. “That bar I mentioned earlier is only a couple of blocks from here.”  
  
“So is my place,” Kathryn found herself saying. “Why don’t you come over for a nightcap instead?”  
  
His slow smile sparked a warmth low in her belly, strange and familiar all at once, and for a moment she faltered. She knew what would happen if she invited him up to her apartment. Was that what she wanted?  
  
_Yes_ , she decided immediately, defiantly. _Yes, it is_.  
  
So she wound her fingers into his as they walked the short distance to her building, and when they stepped inside she didn’t move to the drinks cabinet, but rose up on tiptoe to kiss him instead.  
  
_God_ , she thought deliriously as every nerve sparked and came alive. _If this is what it’s like to kiss him, how am I going to survive what happens next?_  
  
Then Ryan’s hands coiled into her hair as his lips moved along her throat, and she stopped thinking.

* * *

  
  
Jonah Miles had suggested that Chakotay’s first step toward infiltrating the Entera Coalition should be to make himself known to them.  
  
Midrian, the same planet on the outskirts of the Borderlands where his trainees had begun their own undercover mission, hosted a busy spaceport where Ensign Kelar had scanned dozens of ships that, he had reported to Chakotay, he suspected of running illegal cargo to the Cardassian Union. Nothing he could prove – just some unusual sensor readings, and the fact that those ships always followed the routes Starfleet had no authority to patrol – but it seemed clear that the Midrian government was turning a blind eye.  
  
A stop-and-search operation was out of the question, but given what Miles had told Chakotay about the suspected breadth of Entera – information which Chakotay had passed up the line – the sensor data couldn’t be ignored. So Chakotay informed Admiral Paris that he felt Kelar and Lieutenant Davis needed on-site backup, and that he’d be travelling to the Borderlands under the guise of an official meeting with a counterpart from Klingon Imperial Intelligence. He wasn’t sure the cluey old admiral believed him, but Paris had shrugged and said “It’s your mission.”  
  
It wasn’t until he’d finished packing and was back at HQ, ready to beam to the shuttle he’d been assigned, that he realised with an unpleasant jolt he hadn’t informed his girlfriend of his plans.  
  
Shamefaced, he stepped off the transporter pad and headed for Seven’s office across the gardens.  
  
“… increase power to the imaging relays?” he could hear as he approached the doorway, which stood open onto the corridor.  
  
“Unlikely,” Seven’s cool voice replied. “I believe we’ve maximised the sensor resolution, Lieutenant.”  
  
“ _Harry_ ,” the other voice corrected with exaggerated patience. “C’mon, Seven, how many years have we known each other? I keep telling you it’s okay for you to call me by name instead of rank.”  
  
Chakotay stopped at the doorway, watching Seven shift on her feet. The pair of them stood at a console before the enormous screen in the lab, their backs to the door. He was about to enter, call out a greeting, but something about their body language made him pause and watch them closely.  
  
“We’re working,” Seven was saying. “Your rank is more appropriate.”  
  
He watched as Harry Kim nudged her gently and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”  
  
And Seven blushed – _blushed_ – and lowered her eyelashes. “If you insist,” she murmured, “Harry.”  
  
“That’s better,” Harry grinned. His hand clasped her shoulder briefly then dropped to his side as he turned back to the viewscreen. Seven remained with her body twisted toward him. Her expression was soft.  
  
Then she returned her attention to her console, and Chakotay stepped silently away from the door.  
  
He’d leave her a message instead, he decided.

* * *

  
  
As much as Kathryn secretly longed to defy Admiral Kjogo in any small way she could, she couldn’t help but notice that her life became so much easier when she fell into line.  
  
Kjogo strongly approved of her dating Ryan Austin, and especially of the positive press the two of them received whenever they appeared together. In response, she’d allowed Kathryn to excuse herself from many of the tedious diplomatic functions Kjogo had previously insisted she attend, and had increased the work she sent Kathryn’s way – work that Kathryn actually felt had value and importance. She’d spent the past week immersed in working up a new treaty between the Federation and the Midrian government and was booked on a tour of their dilithium mining facilities the following week.  
  
It was ironic, Kathryn mused, that just as she found something interesting to do with her working days, her personal life had taken such an exhilarating turn. In fact the only thing troubling her was the stress-headaches that had become annoyingly frequent of late.  
  
Fortunately, she’d found an excellent cure for them.  
  
Stretching luxuriantly, she felt her skin rub against the warm, solid male body in bed beside her, and Ryan’s eyes cracked half-open as his hand wandered over to stroke her ribcage. “Morning,” he murmured sleepily.  
  
“Morning,” she replied, voice husky.  
  
His eyes opened further as his hand started to move with purpose, stroking the underside of her breast. She caught the gleam in his eye as he watched her nipple pucker and tighten and trailed the tips of his fingers over it, making her catch her breath.  
  
“I have a meeting this morning,” she reminded him.  
  
“So be late,” he said softly, rising up over her, trapping her with arms either side of her head.  
  
“I can’t –”  
  
He cut her off with a dip of his head and a slow swipe of his tongue over her nipple. Her back arched and she tried to stifle a moan.  
  
“They’ll wait for you,” he assured her, planting a trail of nips and kisses over her collarbone and along her throat as she tilted her head to encourage him.  
  
“I suppose they will,” she found herself saying, and she spread her thighs under him, curling her ankles around his back.  
  
Ryan grinned, taking her earlobe between his teeth. “That’s my girl.”  
  
“Hey,” she managed, not quite outraged.  
  
“What?” He smirked down at her, moving his hips against her in a way that made her lower body turn to liquid. “You are my girl, aren’t you?”  
  
“That’s a very old-fashioned and sexist –”  
  
He kissed her, cutting her off again, and for a moment she thought about pushing him off her. But then his fingers were reaching down and sliding deliciously inside her, and all thought fled as he played her body with a skill she found herself completely unable to resist.


	6. False Steps

But you didn't have to cut me off  
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing  
And I don't even need your love  
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough  
– Gotye, _Somebody That I Used To Know_  
  


* * *

 

  
**_Chapter Five: False Steps_**  
 _October, 2378_  
  
  
Chakotay’s reconnaissance mission to Midrian was less than fruitful.  
  
Jonah Miles wanted him to make himself visible to the Entera Coalition in the hope they’d recruit him, which directly conflicted with Starfleet Intelligence’s expectation that he would lay low and provide covert support to his undercover team. For the first week he divided his time between his dingy hotel room in Midrian’s capital city and conspicuous contact with T’Char, the Klingon intelligence agent he had arranged to meet.  
  
During his second week there he began venturing out to the local bars. He ordered the local brews and was amenable to conversations. Federation politics was a common topic in the region, and Chakotay was asked more than once for his opinion on President Zife and his recent trade agreement with Midrian. Uncertain where Entera’s interests lay on the matter, he glossed over it and took the opportunity to complain about the Orion Syndicate’s stranglehold on the region instead.  
  
On his third night frequenting the bar scene he started noticing eyes sliding away from him when he turned on his stool.  
  
But nobody approached him, and Lieutenant Davis conveyed, via Kelar, that she’d made only minimal headway in infiltrating any of the trade consortiums in the region. A single human shuttle pilot, she reported, was not important enough to stir much interest and was viewed with suspicion-tinged disdain.   
  
A corruptible Starfleet captain, Chakotay conceded, might offer a more tempting target, but he’d have to play it exactly right. He’d laid the bait, and now he would have to let it lie.  
  
He headed back to Earth.  
  
The air in his apartment felt stale. He showered and changed, then, still shaking off the restless solitude of Midrian, commed Seven to see if she was free for dinner.  
  
She wasn’t; she was fine-tuning the Borg-enhanced sensors in the _Mehit_ ’s astrometrics lab and expected to be working all night. There was an apologetic note in her voice, but his slightly annoyed suggestion that after three weeks’ separation she should be more enthused about spending time with him only seemed to irritate her.  
  
~I’m very busy,~ she told him, a frown creasing her brow. ~Lieutenant Kim and I have been testing a new gravimetric sensor configuration that will allow us to more easily detect subspace instabilities, and I believe we’re about to make a breakthrough.~  
  
“Harry’s there with you, huh?” Chakotay kept his tone even.  
  
~Of course.~ Seven’s face softened slightly. ~However, I’ve been invited to a celebratory function at the Palace Hotel this Friday night. Would you accompany me?~  
  
“What kind of celebration?”  
  
~Fleet Admiral Shanthi will be publicly announcing a new line of science and exploratory vessels, to be fitted with the enhanced astrometrics array Lieutenant Kim and I have devised. I’m told some of the _Voyager_ crew will be in attendance.~  
  
“Then I wouldn’t miss it.”  
  
She offered him a full-lipped smile and signed off, and Chakotay sighed and resigned himself to another night alone.  
  


* * *

  
  
“ _Ryan_ ,” hissed Kathryn as his fingers drifted over her ribcage again. “We’re at an official function.”  
  
“Can I help it if you look so fucking sexy that I can’t stop touching you?” he murmured in her ear.  
  
Kathryn moved the wandering hand again. “Try,” she deadpanned. “I’d rather not give Kjogo any more reason to chastise me.”  
  
But she couldn’t stifle a small smile as Ryan grumblingly moved his hand away from her exposed side and onto the fabric that covered her hip. After seven years as the chaste captain of a starship, it was a stimulating change to be with someone so insatiable for her.  
  
She just wished this night was over so they could go home and do something about it.  
  
Ryan’s fingers glided upward again, tucking into the low-cut side of her dress and circling dangerously close to her barely-covered breast, making her shiver and bite her lip.  
  
“Think anyone would notice if we ducked into the cloakroom for a quickie?” Ryan murmured.  
  
“Don’t tempt me,” she sighed, then snapped upright as Fleet Admiral Shanthi approached. Ryan’s hand slipped onto the small of her back and Kathryn pasted on her best professional smile.  
  
“Good evening, Kathryn, Mr Austin.” Taela Shanthi smiled at her. “I’m pleased you could make it tonight.”  
  
 _As if I had a choice_ , Kathryn thought. Nyla Kjogo had ordered her to attend; the press would be out in force. Naturally.  
  
“I’m honoured to have been invited, Admiral.”  
  
“Well, I’d think you wouldn’t miss it, considering two of your former crew are part of the reason we’re all here.” Shanthi laughed.  
  
“I beg your pardon?”  
  
“We wouldn’t be installing these astrometrics arrays on ships of the line without Lieutenant Kim and Seven of Nine. They’ve been instrumental in designing these sensors for the _Hawking_ -class starships. Those two are quite a pair.”  
  
Kathryn had gone still. “Yes, they are,” she answered woodenly. Her eyes darted over Shanthi’s shoulder and her throat closed over. There was Harry, looking dashing in his dinner suit, and beside him was Seven, statuesque in a shimmering violet dress.  
  
Following her gaze, Admiral Shanthi turned and gestured to the pair. Kim’s face lit up at the sight of his former captain and he bounded over. “Cap- Admiral! It’s so good to see you,” he enthused, taking her hand in both of his.  
  
“Hello, Harry.” Kathryn squeezed his hands in return, her smile unfurling at the sight of him. But she couldn’t help her gaze straying to Harry’s companion.  
  
“Admiral,” Seven said warmly. “You look well.”  
  
 _Oh Seven, how I’ve missed you_ , Kathryn thought, and hard on its heels, _please tell me you didn’t bring a date_.  
  
Squaring her shoulders, she forced her smile to brighten.  
  
 “You too, Seven.” Kathryn released Harry’s hands, clasping her own behind her back. “I understand you and Harry have become quite the asset to Starfleet.”  
  
Harry slung an arm over Seven’s shoulder, grinning. “Let’s hear it for Borg ingenuity.”  
  
Kathryn noticed that Seven’s cheekbones coloured a little as Harry pulled her against his side. “Your contribution was equally important, Lieutenant Kim.”  
  
“ _Harry_ ,” the man in question emphasised, rolling his eyes.  
  
“Well, congratulations,” Kathryn offered. “If I was captaining a ship of exploration I’d want one with sensors designed by you two.” She couldn’t help the wistful note in her voice.    
  
“Speaking of captains…” Harry turned to crane his neck over the crowd, then raised a hand in the air. “Here he is.”  
  
 _Oh, God_ , Kathryn thought as Chakotay shouldered his way through the crowd and she realised she was about to see him in person for the first time in nine months.  
  
He looked so good. The jacket fitted his broad shoulders perfectly and her fingers itched to straighten his slightly-askew bow tie. Kathryn dug deep to find her most impenetrable mask, knowing she’d need it to get through this.  
  
Chakotay emerged on Harry’s other side, saying, “Seven, I’m sorry, I got waylaid talking to –”  
  
Then he saw her and the words died on his lips.

* * *

  
  
Chakotay barely stopped himself from swearing aloud.  
  
There she was. Her hair was caught loosely at her nape, her lithe body was clothed in something black, silky and – he tried hard to close his mouth – far more revealing than anything he’d ever seen her in before, and she looked so beautiful he had to fight not to reach out and touch her.  
  
And she was looking at him with absolutely no expression at all.  
  
“Captain Chakotay,” Admiral Shanthi said when it became clear that nobody else was planning to speak, an amused undercurrent in her voice. “I’m sure you remember Admiral Janeway.”  
  
Kathryn inclined her head. “Captain. Congratulations on your promotion.”  
  
A cold fist gripped Chakotay’s spine. Nine months, and she hadn’t mellowed toward him at all? No wonder she hadn’t returned any of his messages.  
  
“Admiral,” he answered quietly, concentrating on keeping his voice even. “Congratulations on yours too.”  
  
Some insane impulse made him hold out a hand. She stared at it. Silence expanded to fill the space between them.  
  
Then the man standing beside Kathryn, whom Chakotay hadn’t even noticed, shifted his feet and asked, “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Kathryn?”  
  
She seemed to have forgotten his presence as well; she started when he spoke. “Of course,” she said swiftly. “Ryan Austin, this is Captain Chakotay, Lieutenant Harry Kim and Seven of Nine.”  
  
“Your former crew.” Ryan shook Harry’s hand with a smile, clasped Seven’s fingers for a moment then turned to Chakotay, hand out. “So you were Kathryn’s right hand man?”  
  
Chakotay gripped the other man’s hand and was less than surprised to feel Ryan’s crushing pressure. He returned it in spades. “You could say that.”  
  
They sized each other up, knuckles whitening.  
  
“I’m surprised we haven’t met before,” Ryan returned. “Seven years in exile, I’d have thought you two were close friends.”  
  
Chakotay’s gaze flickered toward Kathryn. “The closest,” he said softly.  
  
“Things change, huh?”  
  
The snide undertone in Austin’s voice made Chakotay’s eyes narrow. He turned his attention back to the other man, assessing him.  
  
“I guess they do,” he drawled, disrespect clear in his tone.  
  
Kathryn’s furious glare encompassed them both.  
  
Taela Shanthi snorted out loud. “Save it for pistols at dawn, gentlemen. Seven, Lieutenant Kim, I’d like you to accompany me to the stage. It must be almost time for the ribbon-cutting.”  
  
Chakotay released Austin’s hand and let his gaze slide back over to Kathryn. She was livid, her spine straight and her colour high; it was clear she longed to verbally lash at him and was only holding back out of decorum.  
  
He didn’t want decorum. He wanted everyone else to melt away into nothing. He wanted to be somewhere else, in a silent room with nobody but her, to talk and listen and look at her. He wanted to touch her.  
  
He wanted the impossible.  
  
“It was good to see you again, Admiral,” Chakotay said politely. He slipped his arm around Seven’s waist and they walked away into the crowd.  
  


* * *

  
  
“So that was him, huh?”  
  
“That was whom?” Kathryn turned icy-grey eyes on her date.  
  
Ryan tilted his chin in the direction of Chakotay’s back. “The famous first officer.”  
  
“That was him.” Kathryn shifted to face the stage as Admiral Shanthi tapped the microphone, drawing the crowd’s attention. The chatter and clink of glasses died away as Shanthi launched into her speech praising the _Hawking_ -class scout vessels and their groundbreaking astrometric sensor arrays, and Kathryn kept her chin raised and her back straight and didn’t hear a word.  
  
Her head ached. She longed for quiet and solitude, but the evening had barely begun and she still had hours of polite smiles and stifling conversation ahead. Absently she rubbed at the knots gathering at the back of her neck, and felt Ryan’s palm clasping her nape warmly, the ball of his thumb soothing her tightened muscles. Her tension headache eased almost immediately and she leaned her back against his chest, humming her approval.  
  
After the applause had died down, Ryan leaned in close and spoke softly in her ear. “Kathryn.”  
  
She arched an eyebrow at him and he reached down to twine his fingers into hers, his thumb stroking her palm and sending delightful flutters along her nerve-endings. “Come with me.”  
  
“Where?”  
  
He tugged her hand and she let him lead her out of the banquet hall.  
  
It seemed like he was heading for the exit, and Kathryn knew she’d have hell to pay if they left before Kjogo got her publicity shots. “Ryan, where are we going?”  
  
He glanced around, opened a door and pulled her inside.  
  
“Really?” She gave him a mild glare. “I thought you were joking about the cloakroom.”  
  
He crowded her up against the wall and she sucked in a breath as his hands slid into the sides of her dress and onto her bare skin.  
  
“Tell me about him.” His tone was teasing and light, but Kathryn heard the challenge in it.  
  
“Who?” she stalled.  
  
“Your stalwart second-in-command. The tattooed terrorist.” Ryan dipped his head, his lips brushing lightly over her neck. “The infamous Maquis rebel who captured your heart.”  
  
“You need to stop reading the tabloids.” Unconsciously, she tilted her head to allow him better access, wondering fleetingly why the hell she wasn’t pushing him away. But it felt so good…  
  
“Not everything they print is bullshit.”  
  
“Ryan …”  
  
“He’s a good-looking guy.” Ryan’s tongue snaked out and curled around her earlobe and Kathryn shivered. “Seven years, day after day… you must’ve got pretty close.”  
  
“If there’s something you want to ask me…” she trailed off on a gasp as he thumbed her nipple, “just ask.”  
  
He ground his hips into her and her head tipped backward.  
  
“Did you fuck him?”  
  
“No.”  
  
His hands slid under her skirt and he tugged her panties down her thighs. “Never?”  
  
She wanted to hit him, but those hands, those lips… She fumbled to unzip his pants. “Never.”  
  
Ryan lifted her and pressed her against the wall, and Kathryn locked her legs around him, feeling him push slightly inside her. “Did you want to?”  
  
She bit her lip, squirming against him. “Does it matter?”  
  
He held her still, teasing her with tiny bites along her collarbone. “You tell me.”  
  
“We didn’t have that kind of –” she groaned, feeling herself stretch around him as he inched further inside her, “– relationship.”  
  
He thrust into her hard and she tried not to whimper, twining her arms around his neck. _I’m a Starfleet admiral,_ she thought briefly, _and I’m having cloakroom sex with my date at an official banquet. What the hell is wrong with me?_  
  
But then Ryan shifted his angle and hit exactly the right spot and she didn’t care about anything else but the dazzling climax she knew he was about to wring from her.  
  
It was only after the room stopped spinning and her feet drifted to the floor that she realised she was furious.  
  
She yanked her panties back up her thighs as Ryan fastened his pants, tried to smooth down the hair that had escaped from her chignon and glared at him. “What the hell was that about?”  
  
There was a look in his eyes – satiation, yes, but she read smugness as well. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”  
  
“My mistake.” Kathryn straightened her dress and yanked open the door. Glancing over her shoulder, she snapped, “Don’t come over tonight. I need some time alone.”  
  
Standing in the empty corridor, she thought about going back inside the banquet hall, smiling and posing for photos and making polite conversation, all while she pretended not to notice the only man in the room whose presence she never had been able to ignore.  
  
With a rare display of gratitude toward Admiral Kjogo for her insistence on Kathryn’s personal safety, she activated her portable transport device and, within a matter of seconds, was sinking gratefully onto the couch in her apartment.  
  


* * *

  
  
He tried not to watch her – tried to focus on Seven, elegant and poised onstage as Shanthi talked up her and Harry’s contribution to the new ships of the line – but his gaze kept sliding over to Kathryn. He watched as she rubbed at the tension he could all but see gathering at the back of her neck and his fingers twitched, remembering the way he once used to ease it for her.  
  
He watched as her date rested his hand there, as the other man’s fingers and thumb rubbed at tense muscles, as Kathryn smiled gratefully up at him. As she leaned into his body the way she had never, not once, leaned into Chakotay’s.  
  
Then they were leaving, and Chakotay had to forcibly plant his feet on the floor to stop himself from going after her.  
  
Fifteen minutes later Austin was back, ruffled and scowling, and Kathryn was nowhere to be seen.  
  
 _Trouble in paradise?_ Chakotay unstuck his feet and made his way over to Austin.  
  
“Jilted?” he asked the other man with mock sympathy.  
  
Austin’s eyes narrowed. “If you must know, Kathryn wasn’t feeling well.”  
  
Chakotay smiled. “She used to get headaches on _Voyager_. I always found a neck rub was the best way to ward them off.”  
  
He watched the other man’s jaw clench.  
  
“So, Mr Austin, what is it you do?”  
  
“I run an interstellar courier company.” Austin’s blue eyes held a challenge. “Trans-Quadrant Express. Maybe you’ve heard of us?”  
  
Chakotay tried not to show his intense, sudden interest. “Your company generally uses the trade routes across the Borderlands, am I right? What do you trade?”  
  
“We mostly offer mercy runs to planets in need. Medical supplies, essential minerals and the like.”  
  
“How charitable of you. Much profit in it?”  
  
“I get by,” Austin said flatly.  
  
Chakotay tilted his head. “Must be challenging these days, what with all the new competition.”  
  
“Is there something you want to ask me, Captain?”  
  
“Just making conversation,” Chakotay said lightly. He glanced over Austin’s shoulder and saw Seven making her way in their direction. “Excuse me. Give my regards to Kathryn.”  
  
“Captain.”  
  
Chakotay turned back. “Yes?”  
  
“She’s never once mentioned your name. Any idea why that is?”  
  
He felt a muscle jump in his temple. “No idea,” he grated.  
  
The other man folded his arms. “Whatever you did to her, I intend to make sure you never get the opportunity to do it again.”  
  
“Meaning?”  
  
“Stay out of her life, Captain.” Austin smiled without humour. “Or I’ll make sure you regret it.”  
  
Chakotay stared after him as Austin walked away.

* * *

  
  
“Kathryn, I’m sorry. I had an alpha male moment.”  
  
She’d let him in after he showed up the following morning, wearing a shamefaced expression and holding a bunch of Vulcan daisies. As she arranged the flowers in a vase she kept her back to him.  
  
“Kathryn?”  
  
“I don’t appreciate being treated like a sex object,” she said coolly, finally turning to face him. “And thanks to you, I’ve already received the expected call from Admiral Kjogo haranguing me for failing to pose for the media last night.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, taking a tentative step toward her.  
  
She folded her arms, unaccountably glad she was buttoned up in uniform. “What was that all about, anyway?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You and Chakotay, behaving like a pair of targs in rut.”  
  
Ryan pushed a hand through his hair. “I was jealous.”  
  
“Whatever for?”  
  
“He’s in love with you,” he said flatly.  
  
Kathryn’s jaw dropped. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she managed faintly.  
  
Ryan raised a hand to her face, his voice soft. “Trust me, Kathryn, I know what a man looks like when he’s in love with you.”  
  
Her eyes widened.  
  
“I see that look in the mirror every day,” he murmured, and bent to touch his lips to hers.  
  
For a moment she was so shocked she didn’t respond. But then he deepened the kiss, and fire raced through her the way it always did when he touched her. His other hand tugged at the fastening of her jacket and she couldn’t suppress a moan, and then her clothes were sliding to the floor and his hands were on her and he was lifting her onto the counter and sinking to his knees between her parted thighs.  
  
Afterward, he stood, wrapping his arms around her still-shaking body and pulling her close.  
  
“I mean it, you know.”  
  
She pulled back to read his eyes.  
  
“I love you, Kathryn.” His voice echoed sincerity. “Stay with me.”  
  


* * *

  
  
When he woke, Seven was arched up on one elbow, watching him with troubled eyes.  
  
“This isn’t working.”  
  
Chakotay rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What?”  
  
A lock of hair slid down over her cheek and he thought about how if it was Kathryn lying there, rumpled from lovemaking and soft with sleep, he’d have wanted to smooth it back into place.  
  
“Our relationship is unsatisfactory,” Seven said bluntly.  
  
He pushed his torso upright, suddenly wide awake. “What are you talking about?”  
  
Seven twitched a shoulder. “We’re sexually compatible. But our interests are too divergent and conversation is … unnatural between us.” She hesitated. “When we are apart, I don’t find myself distracted by thoughts of you. And I don’t believe you miss me when I’m absent, either.”  
  
“Seven, where is this coming from?”  
  
To his surprise she ducked her head to hide the flush on her cheeks, then met his eyes directly. “I… have developed feelings for someone else.”  
  
“Harry Kim,” he guessed.  
  
“How did you...” Seven bit her lip.  
  
“I’m not blind,” he gave her a small, but honest smile.  
  
Seven slipped out of the bed and pulled on her robe, and he decided he’d rather be on his feet for this conversation too. They faced each other.  
  
“I don’t love you, Chakotay, and you don’t love me,” she said gently. “That much was evident at the banquet last night.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“When Admiral Janeway was in your vicinity, your respiration increased, blood flowed to the capillaries in your face and your pheromone output was heightened. You also behaved in a combative manner toward her date, indicating that you view him as a rival for her affections. I had observed these reactions on _Voyager_ , but it was only when you were in her presence last night that I finally understood the reason behind it.”  
  
Chakotay tugged furiously on his ear. “So I’m attracted to her. She’s a beautiful woman. It doesn’t mean I’m in love with her.”  
  
“Are you?”  
  
His mouth opened, then closed. “Seven…”  
  
She nodded. “As I suspected. I’m sorry, Chakotay. I should have known. If I’d been more adept in reading human emotions, I’d never have initiated a relationship with you.”  
  
“Are you saying this – us – was a mistake?”  
  
“No.” She rested a hand on his arm. “I’ve enjoyed our time together very much. You are an attractive and considerate mate, and I’ve learned a lot from you about human partnerships. But I don’t believe we have a long-term future together, and I would prefer we part now as friends than attempt to continue a relationship under these circumstances.”  
  
Chakotay looked into her eyes and read sincerity.  
  
“How did you turn out so wise?” he asked, smiling.  
  
“I had a good teacher,” she answered, moving into his arms for a brief but heartfelt hug.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Kathryn.”  
  
She turned at the sound of her name and suppressed a sigh; Nyla Kjogo was striding toward her across the gardens.  
  
“I understand you’re meeting Owen Paris for lunch,” Kjogo stated. “Why?”  
  
Kathryn stared at her. “He’s an old friend. Do I need a reason, Admiral?”  
  
Kjogo ignored the question, gesturing for her to walk alongside. “Owen is taking his new role as Chief of Intelligence very seriously, and I hear he’s sent a covert team into the Borderlands on reconnaissance.”  
  
“Admiral, you shouldn’t be telling me about active Starfleet Intel investigations,” Kathryn protested. “How do you even know about it?”  
  
“I know a lot of things, Kathryn. And I want you to learn more.”  
  
Kathryn came to a halt. “Are you asking me to spy on Admiral Paris?”  
  
“Nothing so cloak and dagger, Kathryn. Just find out if he’s likely to cause any problems with the Midrian trade agreement. You’ve been working so hard, I’d hate it to be delayed or derailed over some over-zealous ensign’s reports.”  
  
“Admiral…” Kathryn didn’t know where to start. “If the trade agreement could be derailed by information Starfleet Intelligence brings to light, surely it deserves to be held up to further scrutiny. And,” she hesitated, “you outrank Owen. Can’t you order him to divulge whatever reports you’re concerned about?”  
  
“I may outrank him, but he’s a cagey character and we don’t see eye to eye. He trusts you. Find out what he’s up to.” Kjogo rested a hand on her shoulder and smiled with all her teeth. “Be a good girl, Kathryn.”  
  
 _Or I’ll make you pay for it_ , Kathryn heard. “Understood,” she muttered, watching as Kjogo’s long legs carried her in the opposite direction.  
  
“Katie, over here,” she heard as she entered the restaurant. Owen Paris was waving at her from a table by the window. She smiled, weaving through the tables toward him.  
  
“Hello, Owen.” She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek before sliding into the chair opposite.  
  
“So, tell me about this new man of yours,” he began when they’d ordered their meals. “Austin, isn’t it? Is he treating you right?”  
  
 _There’s a loaded question_ , Kathryn thought, fiddling with the stem of her water glass. “We’ve only been dating for a few months,” she demurred.  
  
“Well, you look good together.” Paris grinned at her. “In fact, you look good, period. Nyla Kjogo might be working you hard, but it suits you.”  
  
“I’ve never been afraid of hard work.” Kathryn smiled back, then leaned forward, lowering her voice. “It’s the busy-work I can’t stand. Thank God she’s seen fit to give me something useful to do lately.”  
  
“Ah, yes.” Owen gave her a canny look. “The Midrian trade deal. I suppose she’s sent you here to find out what I know about the Borderlands.”  
  
Kathryn sat back, flushing. “She … did request something along those lines, yes.”  
  
“It’s classified, Kathryn,” he answered. “But I will tell you that one of my teams is investigating reports of a potential emerging threat to Federation security, backed by a conglomerate based in the Borderlands. Midrian features fairly heavily in that investigation.”  
  
Kathryn sipped her water. “Admiral Kjogo is concerned that your investigation might delay the signing of the trade agreement.”  
  
Owen raised his eyebrows. “What’s in it for her?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I’ve known Nyla for thirty years,” Paris answered. “She’s intelligent, resourceful and incredibly ambitious. If she wants this deal to go through, you can bet she’s benefiting from it in some way.”  
  
“Are you suggesting she’s involved in something underhanded?”  
  
“I’m not suggesting anything.” Paris looked at her evenly. “What you choose to infer is up to you.”  
  
He changed the subject then, and the conversation turned to less contentious topics. After lunch they walked back to Headquarters, and as they waited for their respective turbolifts he laid a hand on her arm.  
  
“This Austin fellow of yours – I know you’re not one to talk about your personal life, but you’ve barely said a word about him. I meant what I said before – I hope he’s being good to you. You deserve some happiness in your life.”  
  
Her eyes filled with unexpected tears and she ducked her head, pressing her lips together. Owen patted her arm.  
  
She was trying to think of something to say past the lump in her throat when she felt Owen straighten up beside her. “Look who it is. Heading back to the office, Captain?”  
  
Footsteps came to a halt beside them and the voice that for seven years had invoked her most visceral reactions replied, “Admiral. Yes, I’m due at a meeting.”  
  
Kathryn raised her head and found Chakotay’s eyes burning into hers.  
  
“Admiral Janeway,” he said expressionlessly. “How are you?”  
  
 _He hates me_ , she realised suddenly, _and it’s no wonder, considering the way I’ve treated him_.  
  
Swallowing hard, she forced down the prickling at the back of her throat. “I’m fine, thank you, Captain.”  
  
He nodded, never looking away as he addressed Paris. “Excuse me, sir. I don’t want to be late.”  
  
She tried not to watch him as he walked away, but looking into Owen Paris’ understanding eyes was almost worse.  
  


* * *

  
  
“You’re late,” Ryan greeted her cheerfully as she dragged her overtired, over-punished body through the apartment door.  
  
 _Why did I give him an access code?_ Kathryn berated herself silently. All she wanted was peace, solitude and a long, hot bath.  
  
She tried to smile at him. “Long day, topped off by a particularly fiendish workout. Is that dinner I smell?”  
  
“It is. I found your mother’s biryani recipe in your replicator records. Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll serve up when you’re ready?”  
  
“Ryan…” She stopped talking as he came over and pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips to her forehead.  
  
“You’re exhausted,” he said, gently kneading her tense shoulders. “Let me take care of you.”  
  
Kathryn couldn’t deny the appeal of that idea. “Okay,” she acquiesced, letting him lead her into the bedroom. He ducked into the ensuite to fill the tub and came back to help her out of her jacket and turtleneck, pressing kisses along her spine as he knelt behind her and unfastened her pants. As his mouth moved lower, she couldn’t suppress a shiver.  
  
Ryan turned her around with hands on her hips and swirled his tongue into her navel as his thumbs hooked over the band of her panties and dragged downward, his lips following their progress.  
  
“Ryan, stop.” She rested a hand on his head, fingers threading into his hair.  
  
“What’s up?” He looked up at her, thumbs rubbing the thin skin of her hips.  
  
Kathryn sucked in a breath. “I’m just not in the mood.”  
  
He dipped his head to place a long, slow lick over her clitoris and she couldn’t stifle a moan. “Sure about that?” he mumbled from between her legs.  
  
She _was_ sure. Mentally, emotionally, she didn’t want to be touched right now. The way her body reacted to him was becoming more than remarkable. It was… unnerving.  
  
Kathryn forced herself to step back, holding him firmly away from her. “I’m sure.”  
  
“Okay.” He stood, cupping her face briefly. “Take your bath. Dinner will be waiting when you’re done.”  
  
She took a novel in with her and diligently forced her full attention to it, firmly avoiding all thoughts of annoying admirals, adoring boyfriends and tattooed captains. When she emerged half an hour later she’d managed to calm her disordered thoughts enough to muster up a genuine smile of appreciation as Ryan set a plate in front of her.  
  
“This looks delicious. You’ve done my mom proud.”  
  
She couldn’t eat much, as tasty as it was. Chakotay’s stony face had crept forefront in her mind again, the memory tinged bitter with regret. Seven years of close friendship – and whatever else they might have been – and it was over. All of it.  
  
“Kathryn?”  
  
She stopped playing with her fork and looked up at Ryan.  
  
He ran a hand through his hair, blue eyes intense on hers. “There’s something I want to ask you.”  
  
Kathryn straightened up. “Go ahead.”  
  
Ryan left his chair and came over to her, dropping to one knee and taking her hand. Surprised, she frowned at him.  
  
“Marry me,” he blurted.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I love you.” He stood, bringing her with him, one hand raising to cradle her face. “Marry me.”  
  
Her lips parted. “I don’t – I – this is so sudden –“  
  
He cut her off with a kiss that scorched her lips. “Marry me,” he repeated as they broke apart, then kissed her again, only pulling away when she started to tremble and clutch at him. “Say yes.”  
  
His thumb rubbed gently under her jaw, his other hand leaving hers to trace the delicate knobs of her spine. Kathryn felt her body melting, and with it her resistance.  
  
 _Why the hell not?_ she thought defiantly. _He’s a good man and he loves me. And I’m so tired of being lonely._  
  
“Yes,” she said, and laughed as he whooped and spun her around.


	7. Sheep's Clothing

Cause they will run you down, down ‘til the dark  
Yes and they will run you down, down ‘til you fall  
And they will run you down, down ‘til you go  
Yeah so you can’t crawl no more  
– Kaleo, _Way Down We Go_   
  


* * *

  
  
**_Chapter Six: Sheep’s Clothing_**  
 _December, 2378_  
  
  
Chakotay mistimed yet another jab-straight combination and staggered back as the bag swung heavily into his shoulder. Swearing under his breath, he steadied the bag and bounced on his toes.  
  
“Your mind is not on the job.”  
  
“Fuck,” he blurted, almost jumping out of his skin. He whipped around to see who’d spoken.  
  
Jonah Miles leaned against the back wall of the gym, arms folded.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Chakotay turned back to the bag, pounding it a little harder than necessary.  
  
“You haven’t checked in lately. I came to follow up on our investment.”  
  
“Your _investment_?” Chakotay snorted. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”  
  
Miles pushed off the wall and skirted the boxing ring, stopping the bag firmly just as Chakotay lined up to hit it again. “I haven’t had a report from you in over a month, Captain.”  
  
“That’s because there’s nothing to tell.” Chakotay fired a right hook at the bag. “I filed a report after I got back from Midrian. The mission was a bust.”  
  
“And in five weeks Starfleet Intelligence has learned nothing new? Perhaps now you understand why my agency exists.”  
  
Chakotay’s fist slammed into the leather, a centimetre from Jonah Miles’ head. “Do you think this is a joke? You have me lying to my boss, a man I happen to respect, not to mention betraying the organisation I work for. What the hell else do you want from me?”  
  
“Results,” Miles said flatly. “Entera is expanding, Captain, and the Orion Syndicate isn’t happy. We’re heading for a trade war. The consequences to this quadrant would be devastating.”  
  
He released the bag and handed Chakotay a water bottle.  
  
“We know Entera has tentacles within Starfleet and the Federation government,” he continued as Chakotay’s glare subsided. “We don’t know exactly how far they reach or how high they go. Your mission is to find out.”  
  
Chakotay was about to object when a memory drifted across his mind.  
  
“If they’re that well-connected,” he said slowly, “one might assume that Entera also has influence within the other trade empires, and might be controlling some of the smaller independents.”  
  
“Such as?”  
  
He weighed what he was about to do, sent a silent apology into the ether, and squared his shoulders. “Are you familiar with a courier company called Trans-Quadrant Express?”  
  
“I am.” Miles’ eyes sharpened. “Admiral Bart Austin’s son runs it.”  
  
“Yeah. I … met him a few weeks ago. Turns out he runs medical supplies and ore across the Alpha and Beta quadrants. I gathered his company is familiar with trade routes in and around the Borderlands.”  
  
“If I recall correctly, Mr Austin is romantically involved with a friend of yours.”  
  
Chakotay’s hands stilled. “And?”  
  
“And I’m aware you and Admiral Janeway are somewhat estranged. Don’t you think it’s time to rekindle that friendship?”  
  
Chakotay exploded. “I am not going to use Kathryn to get to her sleazy boyfriend!”  
  
“Yes, you are,” the other man said mildly. “Remember what’s at stake here, Captain. You’ll utilise every angle, every lead and every _person_ it's within your ability to use, in order to get to the bottom of this.” He patted Chakotay on the shoulder and sauntered toward the exit. “I’ll expect a report soon.”  
  
“Fuck,” Chakotay muttered, throwing his gloves to the mat in disgust.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Excuse me, Admiral?”  
  
Kathryn looked up. “What is it, Tora?”  
  
Lieutenant Jens fidgeted, and Kathryn frowned. Jens was not one to fidget.  
  
“There’s someone here to see you. I’ve, uh, checked your schedule. You’re free until 1400 hours.”  
  
“Show them in, then.” Kathryn clicked off the padd and rose behind her desk, smoothing her uniform.  
  
The sight of the man who stepped into the room made her heart constrict. She actually had to curl her hands into fists to stop the sound that wanted to climb out of her throat.  
  
“Captain Chakotay,” she forced her voice even, “this is a surprise.”  
  
Tora shut the door and Chakotay took a couple of hesitant steps into the room.  
  
“Hello, Kathryn,” he said.  
  
“What can I do for you, Captain?”  
  
“It’s Chakotay.” He sounded subdued. “I was hoping we could talk.”  
  
She should decline, tell him she was busy… “All right,” she heard herself say, waving a hand toward the couch.  
  
He sat. “Thanks.”  
  
 _I need coffee for this_ , she thought, going to the replicator. “Can I get you something?”  
  
“Sure. Tea would be great, please.”  
  
She steadied the cups in her hands and placed them on the low table, sitting ramrod-straight as far from him as the couch allowed and clasping her hands in her lap.  
  
He was staring at his boots and seemed in no hurry to speak, so she shifted in her seat and prompted, “You said you wanted to talk.”  
  
“I want to apologise,” he said abruptly.  
  
“What for?”  
  
He smiled briefly, glancing at her. “For the way I acted at that banquet. I was an ass.”  
  
She couldn’t disagree, so she sipped her coffee in silence.  
  
“And I was hoping we could be friends again.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
She wanted to kick herself immediately.  
  
“Because I miss you,” he said softly, holding her gaze. “Kathryn, I assume the fact that you never returned any of my messages means you’re angry with me, and I must have done something to hurt you. I find that intolerable. Whatever I did, I’m more sorry for it than you know.”  
  
“I’m not angry with you.”  
  
It rang false in her own ears, and Chakotay simply looked at her.  
  
Her teeth ground together. _Stop_ , she ordered herself. _Don’t say it_ …  
  
“How’s Seven?”  
  
The petty edge to her tone was unmistakeable, and his eyes sharpened on hers with dawning understanding. Kathryn looked away, silently cursing herself. He always had known her far too well.  
  
“Seven is doing fine,” Chakotay said slowly. “I haven’t heard from her in a few days, but the last time we spoke she was happy. I’m not sure if she’s more excited about installing her astrometrics arrays on the new line of ships, or working with Harry Kim.”  
  
“Harry?”  
  
“We’re not together anymore,” he clarified. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if Seven and Harry are.”  
  
As that revelation settled, her anger flooded back in. “Is that why you’re here?”  
  
“I’m … not following you, Kathryn.”  
  
“Seven ditched you, so you thought you’d see what I was up to?” She pushed up to her feet. “Are you lonely, Chakotay? Looking for someone to flirt with again to help you fill all those solitary hours?”  
  
He rose as well. “No, that’s not why –”  
  
“Isn’t it?” She stepped up close to him, glaring. “Seven years of possibilities and you’re telling me you never think about the road not taken? What was it you said to me that last day on _Voyager_ … that we’re not in a command structure anymore?”  
  
“I did say that,” he responded carefully. “But you made it clear that day, just as you had for the previous seven years, that you weren’t interested in … possibilities. And whatever I did to destroy our friendship, I want to try to put it right.”  
  
 _Oh God_ , she realised, spinning away from him, _I’ve got it all wrong. He wants to be friends. Just friends_.  
  
She felt stricken. Whatever attraction they’d once held for each other, it was long gone. On his part, at least.  
  
It was that very thought – the acknowledgement, if only to herself, that she still felt so strongly for him – she, who was engaged to another man – that straightened her spine. Scrubbing her face of expression, she turned back to him.  
  
“You have nothing to apologise for,” she made herself say. “You’ve done nothing wrong. It was all a misunderstanding.”  
  
He was frowning.  
  
“Really, Chakotay, it’s nothing.” She hesitated, then laid her hand on his chest. _One last time_ , she promised herself.  
  
He looked down at it. “Kathryn –”  
  
And then he stopped, and took her hand in his, his thumb brushing over the diamond ring.  
  
“You’re getting married?”  
  
“Yes.” She forced a smile. “The wedding is at Christmas.”  
  
“That’s less than three weeks away.” He was still staring at the ring. “Kathryn, I hate to ask this and please don’t take it the wrong way, but are you sure?”  
  
She swallowed. “I said yes, didn’t I?”  
  
He let her hand go, but seemed to be having trouble meeting her eyes. “Congratulations,” he said quietly. “I hope you and Ryan will be very happy together.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Chakotay stepped back and finally looked up at her, a small smile on his lips. “I’d better go.”  
  
She nodded.  
  
At the door he paused. “Kathryn.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
This time when he looked at her she was almost knocked backward by the intensity in his eyes. “If you ever need me, I will always be here for you. Always.”  
  
She stood in the middle of her office, staring at the empty space Chakotay had left behind and twisting and twisting the ring on her finger.  
  


* * *

  
“So what do you think?”  
  
She’d lost the thread of the conversation somewhere in the second sentence. “I’m sorry… what?”  
  
Ryan put down his wine. “Kathryn, have you heard a single thing I’ve said in the last fifteen minutes?”  
  
She hadn’t. She’d been replaying the memory of Chakotay’s visit over and over, lingering on the things she had always noticed about him – his low voice, the easy way he moved; the way his body seemed to incline toward hers, without conscious thought, whenever she moved close enough to touch him. The way his eyes darkened and his lips parted, drawing her gaze. That small smile he gave her, the one she’d always believed meant she had asked too much of him, but that he would acquiesce without protest.  
  
Maybe she’d been wrong, all these years, about why he yielded to her wishes so uncomplainingly. She had always hoped it was because he loved her, but maybe it was just because he was tired of fighting.  
  
She was tired, too; tired of guarding the softest parts of herself from him when he had always been able to breach her defences without even trying. Maybe she’d made the right decision in erasing his messages, and with them, his relentless presence in her life.  
  
And maybe the dismay in Lieutenant Jens’ clear blue eyes, when Kathryn ordered her to deflect any future attempts at contact from Captain Chakotay, had merely been her own projection.  
  
“Kathryn?”  
  
She straightened, sending Ryan an apologetic look. “What were you saying?”  
  
“I was talking about running for the next local election,” he said with slightly exaggerated patience. “I’ve been speaking to a couple of acquaintances about the border skirmishes with the Ferengi and the Orions. It’s making life difficult for small traders, and a lot of people think the Federation should be strengthening its borders.”  
  
She put down her fork. “Border patrol is a Starfleet responsibility, Ryan. I’m not sure you’d find much support within ‘fleet for political influence on how we arm our front lines.”  
  
“Well, that’s where you come in,” he cajoled. “After all, with the heroic Kathryn Janeway on my side, surely Starfleet will see the wisdom of it.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” She stared at him. “Ryan, I can’t use my position to help you gain a seat on the Federation Council. It would be a conflict of interest.”  
  
“Why?” he asked. “Plenty of council ministers have come from the Starfleet ranks. Even a few presidents – Archer, Laikan, Sulu... Do you really think they didn’t trade on their ‘fleet connections?”  
  
“Not while they were serving members of Starfleet,” she retorted. Her head had started to ache and she rubbed absently at her temples. “Besides, I’m not sure I agree with you. The Federation needs to strengthen diplomatic and trade relations with the Ferengi, not police them.”  
  
“What about the Orions?” Ryan watched her over the rim of his glass. “I’ve heard they’re increasing their armaments in the Borderlands. If they annex any more planets, trade between the Federation and the Klingon Empire could be at risk.”  
  
“You seem remarkably well-informed,” she commented. “Where did you hear that?”  
  
“This is my livelihood we’re talking about. I make it my business to stay informed.”  
  
“I see.” She folded her hands on the table. “I’ll look into it. That’s all I can promise.”  
  
Ryan looked as if he was about to argue, but at the slight arch of her eyebrow his blue eyes cleared and he smiled at her. His hand rested over hers, his thumb rubbing softly along the inside of her wrist. It made her shiver.  
  
“I’m sure you’ll agree with me once you have all the facts,” he pitched his voice low and silky. “And of course you’ll support me publicly when you’re my wife.”  
  
The tips of his fingers brushed her inner arm. “Of course,” she echoed distractedly, mesmerised by his tingling, luscious touch. It tightened her nipples and raised the tiny hairs on her arms.  
  
“I almost forgot to tell you – President Zife’s office called for you earlier.” Ryan brought her hand up to his mouth, and she sucked in a breath at the sensation of his lips moving warmly over her palm. “He’s giving a speech on Saturday and there’ll be a formal dinner afterward. They want you to be there.”  
  
Kathryn frowned, the headache that had ebbed with his touch sending a sharp pulse into her temples. “I thought we were going to Indiana this weekend. My mother’s been looking forward to it.”  
  
Ryan shifted his chair next to hers and tugged lightly at her fingers, blue eyes smoky and inviting. “What can we do? When the president says jump…”  
  
“I ask how high,” she barely managed to breathe, and slipped out of her seat to sink onto his lap, winding her body around his.  
  


* * *

  
  
He was still wound up, even after a dozen rounds with a burly Bolian cadet and thirty laps in the pool, but he knew if he worked out any more he’d feel like aged meat the next day. Pulling on his sweats after a quick shower, Chakotay left the gym for a walk around the rose garden.  
  
At this late hour the garden was, as he’d expected, empty. He ambled slowly along the paths until fatigue dragged at his steps and he stopped to rest in the lee of the main Starfleet Communications building.  
  
So Kathryn was getting married. Chakotay let his head thud against the wall, trying not to swear aloud. He’d had a sick feeling in his chest for three days, ever since he saw that diamond on her finger.  
  
The door nearest him opened, letting out a waft of recycled air, and Chakotay kept still, hoping whoever was working this late wouldn’t spot him. He was in no mood for conversation.  
  
“… sure I can talk her into it,” a male voice was saying.  
  
The voice was vaguely familiar, he noted, frowning as he tried to place it.  
  
“I should hope so,” came the acerbic reply.  
  
Chakotay barely stopped himself from jumping. That was Nyla Kjogo’s voice.  
  
“She doesn’t respond particularly well to bullying,” Kjogo continued, “and frankly, I’m tired of ordering her around like a recalcitrant four-year-old. It’s your job to charm her into this.”  
  
“I’ll keep up my end,” the man retorted, letting the door swing shut. “You just make sure all the political pieces are lined up. I don’t intend to lose this election.”  
  
Kjogo gave a short laugh. “You have the president’s endorsement, seven media channels on your team and you’re marrying the most famous woman in the quadrant right before the polls. You can’t possibly lose.”  
  
 _Austin_ , Chakotay recognised, shock twisting his gut. He held as still as he could, listening intently.  
  
“What about Paris?” Austin asked. “He’s a loose cannon. Can’t you muzzle him?”  
  
“Leave Owen Paris to me.” Kjogo’s face was briefly illuminated as she tapped into a padd. “He has friends in high places, but not as high as mine. I can handle him.”  
  
“A couple of well-placed threats might keep him in line,” the man mused. “I hear he’s very fond of his young granddaughter.”  
  
Chakotay couldn’t help the grinding of his teeth.  
  
“Must you stoop so low, Ryan? Show a little class.”  
  
Chakotay heard the shifting of hands over Starfleet fabric. “You like it when I get low, Nyla.” Ryan Austin’s voice was smooth and treacly. “Don’t deny it.”  
  
“Have you forgotten I’m Tandaran?” Kjogo sounded bored. “I’m immune to your particular brand of charm, so save it for Janeway.”  
  
“Oh, shit.” Ryan spoke sharply. “What time is it? I’m supposed to meet Kathryn at the Four Seasons.”  
  
“Then you’d better get moving, and make sure the paparazzi get a few good shots in.” She sighed. “I have to go too. I’ve got a meeting.”  
  
The sounds of their footsteps moving away almost obliterated Austin’s low reply, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”  
  
“Fortunately,” Kjogo said tartly, “that doesn’t leave much.”  
  
Austin laughed, the pair of them moved off in opposite directions, and Chakotay waited until he was sure he was alone again before slowly uncurling himself away from the wall.  
  
His could barely process everything he’d overheard. The moment he’d met Ryan Austin his instincts had woken up and shouted a warning, but for Kathryn’s sake he had wanted to believe the man was genuinely good for her. And what the hell was Nyla Kjogo doing, conspiring with him? Clearly Austin was using Kathryn to launch his political career, but what was Kjogo getting out of their association?  
  
That sick feeling in his chest returned, and with it a wild array of suspicions. He had to do something. But before he could act he needed the truth, and there was one logical place to look for it. He strode along the path toward the Intelligence building and let himself into his office.  
  
Seated behind his desk, he drummed his fingers on it. “Computer, display the service record of Fleet Admiral Nyla Kjogo.”  
  
The computer beeped obligingly and Chakotay hunched over the screen.  
  
 _Kjogo, Nyla. Born 2318 in Hekta, Tandar Prime. Graduated Starfleet Academy in 2340, 97th percentile. Rose quickly through the ranks. Veteran of the Cardassian conflict. Commanded the 5th Squadron during the Dominion War and was awarded several medals for valour. Became the youngest Tandaran ever to be promoted to fleet admiral in 2375._  
  
That didn’t tell Chakotay what he really wanted to know. What was her connection with Ryan Austin? Who were the “friends in high places” she’d boasted about? What game was she playing, and what did she want with Kathryn Janeway?  
  
“Access Federation civilian database and display information pertaining to Ryan Austin, owner of Trans-Quadrant Express.”  
  
 _Austin, Ryan. Born 2330 in Salva City, Vega Colony. Father listed as Admiral Bartholomew Austin. Mother unknown. Married to Maja Hansen of Vega Colony in 2351, divorced 2352. Relocated to San Francisco, Earth, in 2352. Registered owner of Trans-Quadrant Express from 2358 until present._  
  
“Hansen,” he muttered. “Vega Colony…”  
  
Seven had relatives there; a large contingent of Hansens had settled on Vega Colony half a century ago. Could Ryan Austin have been married to one of them?  
  
“Computer, open a channel to Seven of Nine on the USS _Mehit_.”  
  
~Chakotay,~ Seven looked pleased. ~Are you well?~  
  
“Fine, Seven, thank you. How are you? How’s Harry?”  
  
Seven coloured a little. ~I’m in good health. As is Lieutenant Kim. How did you…?~  
  
“How did I know you two are together?” He shrugged, smiling. “Lucky guess. I’m happy for you. But listen, Seven, I have another reason for calling. When you visited Vega Colony a few months back, did you happen to meet a woman called Maja Hansen?”  
  
~My father’s cousin.~ Seven pressed her lips together. ~No. According to my Aunt Irene, Maja Hansen is permanently confined to a psychiatric hospital and has had no external contact since her admittance approximately twenty-five years ago.~  
  
Chakotay sat back in shock. “Do you know what she suffers from?”  
  
~I do not. However, my aunt may be willing to speak with you on the subject. I’ll ask her to contact you.~  
  
“At her earliest convenience, please, Seven. It’s important.”  
  
~Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you?~  
  
“No, thanks, Seven. I appreciate your help. Chakotay out.”  
  
Seven’s image disappeared from the screen, and Chakotay chewed his lip, thinking. An abbreviated marriage to a woman who was committed to an institution when it ended, and a mother listed as _unknown_ ; mystery seemed to surround Ryan Austin. He wasn’t sure any of this was important, but it was curious.  
  
He re-read Austin’s birth record. Born in Danwar Maternity Hospital on Stardate 7638.5 – he ran a quick mental calculation – October twenty-second, 2330.  
  
“Computer, display Danwar Hospital prenatal records for the year 2330. Identify any instances of the name Bartholomew Austin.”  
  
 _There are no results to display._  
  
Chakotay frowned. Maybe Admiral Austin had never attended prenatal appointments with the mother of his child. “Broaden search to all obstetrics records, same parameters.”  
  
 _There are no results to display._  
  
“Shit.” Chakotay stood, pacing the room.  
  
 _Incoming transmission from Irene Hansen_ , the computer informed him, and he sat quickly behind his desk, activating the viewscreen.  
  
“Ms Hansen,” he addressed the sweet-faced woman onscreen. “Thank you for contacting me so quickly.”  
  
~Annika said it was important. How can I help you, Captain?~  
  
“This is going to sound like a strange question, but I hope you’ll indulge me … What can you tell me about your cousin, Maja Hansen?”  
  
~Oh, Maja,~ Irene sighed. ~I haven’t seen her in almost thirty years. What happened to her was terrible.~  
  
“What did happen?”  
  
~I don’t know the details, I’m afraid. All I know is that she has acute psychological dissociation. I was told it’s incurable, though I don’t know what caused it.~ She paused. ~Anything else I could tell you is just rumour and speculation.~  
  
“I understand. I’d like to hear it anyway, if you’re willing to tell me.” Chakotay leaned in, smiling just enough to show his dimples.  
  
As he’d hoped, Irene relented and smiled back at him. ~Well, there was some talk that she was pregnant when she went into hospital, and that the baby was secretly adopted. I’ve never really known whether to believe that.~  
  
“Why not?”  
  
Irene’s smile faded. ~Because I tried to find out. I wanted children but couldn’t have them myself, and when Magnus and Erin disappeared a few years later I lost my niece as well. If Maja had given birth to a child she was unable to care for, I wanted to know about it. But the hospital refused to give me access to her medical records.~  
  
“I’m sorry,” Chakotay said honestly.  
  
~I argued with those doctors for months,~ Irene mused. ~I was convinced they were stonewalling. It’s strange to think that the child would be about twenty-five now, just a few years younger than Annika.~  
  
“Then you do believe it?”  
  
Irene straightened, meeting his eye. ~A ward nurse passed on a rumour that one of the psychiatric patients had given birth and that a man had come to claim the baby. She didn’t know who the patient was, but she believed the man claimed guardianship because he was somehow related to the child. And that he was a Starfleet officer, someone high up in the ranks.~  
  
“A _Starfleet_ officer?” Chakotay stared at her.  
  
~That’s all she could tell me. And I’ve never been able to confirm whether she was talking about Maja or another patient.~  
  
He filed that away. “Do you know anything about Maja’s marriage?”  
  
Irene shook her head. ~I’m sorry. All I know is it was very brief and ended when Maja had her psychotic break. I suppose whoever he was, he divorced her on grounds of mental incapacity. I can’t say I blame him.~ She paused. ~If there was a child, I suppose he’d have been the father. To be honest, that’s what makes me doubt that part of the story.~  
  
“How so?”  
  
~Well, if he knew he had a child, wouldn’t he have been the one to claim it? And Maja’s husband wasn’t a Starfleet officer.~  
  
 _No, he wasn’t_ , Chakotay thought. _But his father was. An admiral, no less_.  
  
He kept that to himself, though. “Thank you for your time, Ms Hansen,” he said. “And I’m sorry if I’ve stirred up any unpleasant memories.”  
  
~It’s all right, Captain.~ Irene smiled at him. ~Things have turned out quite well for me, now that I have Annika back. And I have you to thank for that.~  
  
“Actually,” he said quietly, “the person you have to thank for that is Kathryn Janeway.”  
  
They said their goodbyes and he closed the channel, leaning back in his chair to sift through the information Irene had given him. Intriguing as it was, he needed another angle. Looking into Ryan Austin’s personal history was getting him nowhere with the problem at hand.  
  
He thought back over the conversation he’d overheard in the rose garden. Threats to Miral Paris, political machinations, interference in Starfleet Intelligence operations… he didn’t know where to start.  
  
A snippet of that unholy dialogue wormed its way to the front of his memory.  
  
 _I’m Tandaran_ , Kjogo had reminded Austin. _I’m immune to your brand of charm_.  
  
He straightened up. “Computer, access medical database, xenobiological section. Display Tandaran genome and list all known natural immunities.”  
  
A long list of medical words appeared on the screen. Immunities to known poisonous or psychotropic substances, diseases, quirks of alien biology –  
  
“Stop,” he said suddenly. “Computer, go back three lines and hold.”  
  
 _Tandaran physiology is known to present a natural immunity to Deltan pheromones._  
  
“Computer,” he said slowly, “display population breakdown of Vega Colony.”  
  
 _The population of Vega Colony is 43.2 percent human, 36.8 percent Deltan, 7.5 percent Vulcan, 4.6 percent Andorian …_  
  
“Computer, halt.” Chakotay sat unseeing as the pieces slotted together.  
  
Ryan Austin’s personal history was more than intriguing. It was vital to understanding at least part of what he’d overheard in the rose garden.  
  
Tandarans were immune to Deltan pheromones.  
  
Humans were not.  
  
He’d learned in first-year xenobiology that exposure to Deltan pheromones could cause psychological and emotional effects in most humanoids, ranging in severity from sexual addiction and susceptibility to subconscious suggestion, all the way up to – in the worst case scenario – permanent insanity.  
  
Ryan Austin’s unidentified mother, he intuited, had been Deltan. And her son had inherited the trait that Deltans were known for, a trait that Deltans in Starfleet deliberately suppressed due to its dangerous effects on most species. But Ryan Austin had never suppressed his natural ability. He’d used it instead, and the impact on his ex-wife had apparently been devastating.  
  
And now he was using it to manipulate Kathryn.


	8. Adrift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for dubious consent depicted in this chapter, which I guess applies retrospectively now.

This is the last time I'll abandon you  
And this is the last time I'll forget you  
I wish I could  
\- Muse, _Stockholm Syndrome_  
  


* * *

 

  
 ** _Chapter Seven: Adrift_**  
 _December, 2378_  
  
  
“Thanks,” Kathryn smiled at the barista as she lifted her cup and sipped, sighing in pleasure. She’d managed to convince her personal trainer to finish this morning’s session early, leaving her just enough time to stop in at her favourite coffee shop on her way to work.  
  
Her head was aching, a constant, low throb that seemed as though it had been with her forever, and even caffeine wasn’t really helping. Inhaling the steam rising from her coffee, she switched on the padd containing her schedule for the next week. Gretchen had been disappointed but resigned that Kathryn had had to cancel their weekend plans and it only made Kathryn more determined to spend some time with her mother before the wedding.  
  
Which, she realised with a confusing mix of emotions she wasn’t sure she wanted to name, was only two weeks away now.  
  
She was beset with a sudden need to talk to someone who knew her. Closing her schedule, she opened a comm channel.  
  
~Katie!~ Gretchen had clearly been in the garden; rosy-cheeked from the cold, her smile was open and honest and everything Kathryn had been longing to see.  
  
“Hi, mom.” She found herself blinking back tears.  
  
~What’s wrong?~ Gretchen demanded immediately.  
  
“Nothing, I’m –”  
  
~Don’t give me any of that ‘fine’ bullshit.~ Gretchen glared at her daughter. ~Tell me what’s going on. You look tired, honey.~  
  
“It’s just a headache. Feels like I’ve had it for weeks.”  
  
~Don’t you have doctors at HQ?~ Gretchen’s voice was tart.  
  
“You know how I feel about doctors.” Kathryn shrugged listlessly. “And the only one I want to see is busy writing papers on Delta quadrant diseases.”  
  
~Uh-huh.~ Her mother frowned at her. ~Don’t mess with your health, Katie. See a doctor. Better yet, come here and let me look after you. If anyone could use a break, it’s you.~  
  
“I’d love to, but I’m so busy –”  
  
~I know. Diplomacy, negotiations, wedding plans…~ she paused, noting Kathryn’s involuntary flinch. ~What? What did I say?~  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
~Kathryn Janeway, don’t lie to me. Are you having doubts about marrying Ryan?~  
  
The headache ramped up and Kathryn rubbed her temples. “Of course not, mom. Listen, I have to go. I’ll see you soon, okay?”  
  
She disconnected before Gretchen could press her further, closing her eyes against the spikes of pain in her head.  
  
Kathryn laid the padd on the table and brought the coffee to her lips, staring unseeingly through the café window. Last week Chakotay had asked her if she was sure about marrying Ryan, and she’d said she was.  
  
 _I hope you and Ryan will be very happy together,_ he’d said.  
  
She certainly cared for Ryan. He loved her, and she enjoyed their conversations, and he never failed to satisfy her sexually. Was that happiness? She thought she’d known happiness in different forms before, with Justin and with Mark. Did it matter that what she had with Ryan was different?  
  
Shaking herself, she returned her attention to the padd and was making notations when she felt somebody’s presence beside her table, and looked up.  
  
“Chakotay,” she blurted.  
  
“Hello, Kathryn.” He smiled at her tentatively. “I was just passing and saw you in here. I hope you don’t mind if I join you?”  
  
“I don’t think –”  
  
“Kathryn,” he interrupted, “there’s something I need to tell you. And I need you to hear me out.”  
  
The gravity of his tone sent apprehension curling into the pit of her stomach. “All right,” she said slowly. “What is it?”  
  
“Not here. Can we take a walk?”  
  
Without a word she slipped her padd into her shoulder bag, drained her coffee and stood.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
He led her into the secluded gardens behind the café and they walked slowly, side by side, not touching, until the silence got to her. “What is it you want to tell me, Chakotay?”  
  
“It’s about Ryan.”  
  
She went still. “What about him?”  
  
Chakotay ran a hand through his hair. “How much do you know about him, Kathryn? I mean, his personal history.”  
  
“I know enough.” She didn’t mean to sound defensive. “Why?”  
  
“Do you know where he was born? Who his parents were?”  
  
“Vega Colony. And his father was Admiral Bart Austin.”  
  
“What about his mother?”  
  
“I …” She realised she had no answer. “It’s never come up.”  
  
“There’s a reason for that.” Chakotay hesitated, then reached for her hands. She stared at them. “Kathryn, I don’t think Ryan is a good guy. I believe his mother was Deltan, and he’s been hiding that fact from you because –”  
  
She jerked her hands away. “You’ve been checking up on him?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“What the hell for?” she snapped. “It’s not your place, Chakotay. You’re not my first officer anymore.”  
  
“I overheard a conversation that raised a number of suspicions,” he answered carefully, “so I did some checking. You know the effect Deltan physiology can have on humans. I think Ryan is half-Deltan and he’s using his genetic abilities to manipulate you.”  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
Chakotay heaved in a breath. “Forgive me for asking this, but … when you’re together, do you feel … out of control?” He tugged his ear, then clarified, “I mean, sexually.”  
  
Her face drained of colour. “That is _none_ of your goddamned business!”  
  
“Kathryn, I’m sorry, but –”  
  
“ _No_ ,” she snarled, striding away from him, then turning back with clenched fists. “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, Chakotay, but you have crossed the line. I don’t care what you’re playing at. From now on, you _stay away from me_!”  
  
“Kathryn, wait,” he shouted after her, but she was gone.  
  


* * *

  
   
Over the next few weeks, Chakotay searched every database he could access – and some he, officially, couldn’t – in his quest for more information about Ryan Austin, and turned up next to nothing on him prior to his relocation to Earth in 2352. It smacked of a cover-up, and he suspected the late Admiral Bart Austin was responsible.  
  
It also made him wonder if the senior Austin had been a member of Jonah Miles’ clandestine agency. Even a high-ranking Starfleet admiral would find orchestrating this level of conspiracy difficult without friends in high places, to borrow a phrase from Nyla Kjogo.  
  
But if Bart Austin had been Section 31, Jonah Miles didn’t know about it. He’d ordered Chakotay to investigate whether the admiral’s son was involved with Entera, after all. And his reaction when Chakotay relayed what he had learned about Ryan Austin’s collusion with Kjogo had been reminiscent of Kathryn Janeway’s steely stare and deadly, low-voiced response to some alien threat.  
  
Kathryn Janeway. Who was now, he thought with an ache in his chest that left him breathless, Kathryn Austin.  
  
He was furious with himself for approaching her the way he had. Given their strained relationship, he should have known she would be instantly on the defensive. He should have gathered more evidence, sent it to her in writing, given her space and time to consider it, allowed her to draw her own conclusions. Running full-tilt at Kathryn with something she didn’t want to hear had never gone well on _Voyager_ , and it had been disastrous that day in the café gardens.  
  
Because of his idiocy, she had gone full steam ahead into a poisonous marriage to a man who was using her, and Chakotay blamed himself.  
  
He’d seen the news vids of her wedding; how could he miss them, when it had been front page news for weeks? Kathryn had looked so beautiful in her cream silk column dress, a bouquet of her mother’s hothouse orchids in her hands. He knew they were honeymooning on Risa. He knew the gossip press were speculating whether the marriage had happened so quickly because she was pregnant. And he knew that Ryan Austin’s approval rating had skyrocketed, and that he was tipped for an easy victory at the Federation Council election in three days’ time.  
  


* * *

  
  
The election was, as predicted, a landslide, and Kathryn Janeway – she’d declined to adopt her new husband’s name – was beset with unease.  
  
She’d sleepwalked through her own wedding – kept to immediate family only, at her insistence, though she’d lost the fight with Admiral Kjogo about posing for press-release photos. The exchange of vows had been jarringly brief and she’d barely had time to hug her mother and sister before Kjogo had appeared to hurry the newlyweds to her chosen photo location. When Kathryn had seen the pictures on the broadcasts the following morning, she’d barely recognised herself in the woman with the tight-eyed smile.  
  
Her headaches had worsened to the point where she had finally taken Gretchen’s advice and visited the duty doctor at HQ, citing stress and requesting a hypospray. It had controlled the pain enough to get her through the manic fortnight preceding the wedding, and she’d convinced herself that stress was, in fact, the reason for her migraines. She was sure that all she needed was a vacation.   
  
But ten days on Risa for her honeymoon had lowered her stress level not a bit. Each time she ventured out the paparazzi had shown up, compelling her to put on a show of smiling, newlywed bliss until she could escape back to their beach hut.   
  
The honeymoon had not been a holiday for Ryan either. He’d spent almost dawn to dusk working – communicating with his support staff, running his courier business, giving interviews and posing for publicity photos with Kathryn on his arm – and by the time he dropped into bed beside her each night, he didn’t want to talk. All he wanted to do was fuck and fall asleep.  
  
Kathryn had found herself increasingly restless and jittery as each day wore on, preoccupied with waiting for that moment, the moment he pulled her into his arms. She refused to analyse why she felt lonelier than ever now that she was married, or why her head would ache and her stomach twist with nausea that only seemed to abate when Ryan touched her.  
  
Now that they were back in San Francisco he’d moved into her place, holding meetings in her lounge room and letting his aides use her communications equipment. Kathryn worked late in her office at HQ most nights, longing for the peace of her previously empty apartment, and would only come home when the stress migraines grew so bad her vision began to blur.  
  
Ryan would take one look at her white, tight-lipped face and send his assistants away. He’d peel off her uniform and loosen her hair, his strong hands easing the tension from her shoulders. His massages always ended the same way: warm lips on her skin, his body pressed to hers, his fingers or tongue urging her into climax before he thrust into her, prolonging the intensity. She began to crave the orgasms he wrung from her so effortlessly, almost as much as the languorous relief that followed.  
  
She knew the press was hinting heavily that she’d be making a baby announcement any day now, and she was trying so hard to ignore it. The idea of having a child with Ryan filled her with a terror she found incomprehensible. She had always wanted children, so surely she should want to have them with the man she’d just pledged to love and honour for the rest of her life?  
  
Ryan seemed to think so. The morning before the polls opened, as she pinned up her hair before the bathroom mirror, he casually asked her when she planned to stop her birth control boosters.  
  
“I – hadn’t thought about it,” she stammered, caught off guard.  
  
He turned to kiss her forehead, hands sliding onto her hips. “Don’t you think you should?” he murmured. “You’ll make such a wonderful mother, Kathryn.”  
  
“Ryan…” she held her hands over his, stilling them. “We need to talk about this.”  
  
“Of course we will,” he said blithely, moving back to the mirror to straighten his tie. “After I win the election tomorrow we can both relax. Who knows – maybe it’ll happen sooner than we think.” He grinned at her reflection. “You might have to speak with that slavedriver Kjogo about winding down your working hours.”  
  
Kathryn bit her lip.  
  
“Gotta go.” Ryan kissed her tenderly, drawing her into his arms, and despite herself she melted, pressing her body into his. “Damn,” he growled. “Don’t make me late, woman.”  
  
He gave her ass a squeeze, nipped her neck lightly just above her rank bar, and loped out the door.  
  
Kathryn lowered herself to sit on the side of the bathtub, eyes squeezed shut as she willed away the pervading sense of dread.

* * *

  
  
Nyla Kjogo fronted up to Kathryn’s office the Monday after Ryan’s successful appointment as Federation Councillor – a first, as Kathryn had previously always been summoned to hers – and offered her congratulations, along with an invitation to tour the Yaraka sector with her celebrated husband.  
  
“For what purpose?” Kathryn asked.  
  
“President Zife has specifically requested that Councillor Austin meet with representatives from the unallied planets in the Borderlands, and your presence is required to lend the Starfleet seal of approval. Thanks to your trade negotiations with Midrian and Japori, several independent worlds in the region have started making overtures for Federation protection. I want you out there pressing the flesh, Kathryn. Take Lieutenant Jens with you, too. I’ll have her line up a series of PR engagements.”  
  
Kathryn had had enough.  
  
“Admiral.” She stood, clenching her fingers to hide their trembling. “I didn’t join Starfleet to wear pretty dresses and pose for the cameras. I’m a scientist, not a politician’s accessory, and I damn well want to be out there exploring, not batting my eyelashes at fat diplomats who wouldn’t know a hypergiant from a house cat!”  
  
She stared at Kjogo, breathing harshly.  
  
“Are you finished?”  
  
Kathryn lifted her chin and swallowed. “Yes, sir.”  
  
“Good.” Kjogo unfolded her arms and tossed a padd on Kathryn’s desk. “Here’s your itinerary. You leave in two days. Pack some pretty dresses, Kathryn, and don’t forget to smile like I know you can.”

* * *

  
  
After Kjogo’s departure Kathryn allowed herself a short and uncharacteristic outburst of sobs, then heaved in a breath, wiped her fingers under her eyes and walked over to rest her forehead against the cool surface of the window.  
  
Her head was killing her and her heart was pounding so fast she felt it might choke her. Maybe her mother was right about seeing a proper doctor – not just one she could palm off with the excuse that she was under stress.  
  
“Are you all right, Admiral?”  
  
Kathryn started; she hadn’t heard her aide enter the office. Tora Jens stood by her desk, forehead creased in concern. She carried a tray that held a coffee pot and two dainty cups.  
  
“I’m fine,” Kathryn answered automatically. “It’s just a headache.”  
  
She could see Jens’ gaze cataloguing the signs she knew must be visible – reddened eyes, blotched skin – and she walked over to her desk, turning her back as she pretended to search for a padd.  
  
“Let me pour you a coffee,” Jens said firmly, and before Kathryn could decline she had carried the tray over to the small sofa and sat, looking expectantly at her boss as she poured not one, but two espressos.  
  
Kathryn debated whether to reprove her aide for her presumption, but found she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “A coffee does sound good,” she admitted, taking the seat opposite Jens and bringing the cup to her lips.  
  
A soft huff of laughter made her open her eyes and turn her attention to her aide, who was smirking at her.  
  
“I did it again, didn’t I?” Kathryn said ruefully, recalling Tora’s reaction the first time the lieutenant had watched her enjoy her coffee.  
  
Jens’ smile broadened. “Frankly, Admiral, I don’t know how your first officer on _Voyager_ managed to focus on his job when he watched you do _that_ every day. He must have had the restraint of a Vulcan.” She tasted her own espresso and added contemplatively, “Though I imagine he was quite a source of distraction himself.”  
  
Having swallowed a too-large mouthful of coffee, Kathryn couldn’t quite muster up the glare that comment deserved. Fortunately, Jens wasn’t blind to her boss’s reaction to the topic and moved smoothly on.  
  
“Admiral Kjogo gave me a copy of the itinerary for the Borderlands visit. Shall I take you through it?”  
  
“God, no.” Kathryn pressed her fingertips against the spot where her temple was beginning to throb again. “Just flag any political or trade developments on the off-chance an interviewer decides to ask me a real question. And Tora, try to reserve me an evening or two off, preferably with my husband. I’ll put you in touch with Ryan’s assistant so you can coordinate our schedules.”  
  
Tora Jens’ face had gone blank. “Yes, ma’am.”  
  
“Something wrong?” Kathryn raised her eyebrows at Jens’ change in demeanour.  
  
“Will Councillor Austin be accompanying you?”  
  
“Actually, it’s more that I’ll be accompanying him.” Kathryn tried to keep the resentment from her tone. “Why do you ask?”  
  
Jens was obviously practiced at concealing her emotions, but the long pause before the young woman mumbled something about arranging extra personal security told Kathryn that her aide wasn’t being truthful.  
  
She raised a hand to cut the lieutenant off. “As soon as I mentioned my husband, you clammed up. Out with it, Tora. Do you have a problem with Ryan?”  
  
Jens’ blue eyes signalled _yes_ , but she answered, “No, Admiral, of course not.”  
  
Kathryn frowned at her, trying to puzzle out why her aide would take issue with her husband. Was it his politics she disliked, or the man himself?  
  
“Shall I make you a doctor’s appointment before we leave?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“For your headaches,” the lieutenant replied, and only at Jens’ pointed glance did Kathryn realise she had the fingers of one hand pressing into the knot that had formed at the base of her skull.  
  
“Oh,” she said. “No. I’m just a little tired.”  
  
Jens looked conflicted. “You’ve been getting those headaches for months now, Admiral. Are you sure you don’t want me to –”  
  
“I _said_ , no,” Kathryn snapped, her words dropping like stones into the space between them.  
  
She stared silently at the younger woman. The sympathy she read in Tora’s eyes wasn’t surprising. The guilt and remorse, however, was.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jens said with quiet intensity.  
  
“No, I’m the one who should apologise,” Kathryn said woodenly. “And don’t worry about me. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”  
  
“I’ll get started on your schedule immediately,” and before Kathryn could dismiss her, Jens had retreated to the outer office.  
  
Kathryn dropped her head onto her folded arms with a groan.  
  
Everything felt wrong. She was surrounded by people whose motivations she couldn’t quite define, and she no longer trusted her instincts. If she could only rid herself of these headaches, maybe she’d be able to think clearly. Maybe everything would start to make sense.  
  
 _I should make time to speak to a counsellor_ , she thought, and rejected the idea immediately. Even if Kjogo allowed it, what could she possibly talk about? Seven years captaining a ship back from the Delta quadrant wasn’t exactly a relatable experience. As for what had happened to her since, she wouldn’t know where to start.  
  
Were she on _Voyager_ , she’d pull together the captain’s mask, shove the troubling emotions down into the corner of her soul and carry on. But she was someone’s wife now. Surely instead of bottling it all up as she had for the past eight years, she should tell her husband her troubles? Wasn’t that what married couples were supposed to do – share the good times and the bad?  
  
And, God, could she use a hug right about now. Maybe it was time to change the habit of almost a decade.  
  
Suddenly energised, she programmed the coordinates into her personal transporter and materialised in the anteroom of Ryan’s new office. His assistant was absent but the office door was ajar, so Kathryn headed for it, a smile playing at her lips. Her steps slowed as she heard voices inside.  
  
A feminine giggle, followed by low male laughter.  
  
She peeked inside. Ryan lounged on the edge of his desk, his posture relaxed, a smile kinking his lips. Beside him – close; perhaps a little too close – stood a slender woman Kathryn judged to be in her early thirties. As she watched, the woman tossed her black hair so that it cascaded prettily down her back and cocked a hip, emphasising long legs in a short skirt.  
  
Kathryn pushed open the door.  
  
“Kathryn!” Ryan immediately pushed off the desk to come over and take her in his arms. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Before she could answer, he swung around, his arm still locked around Kathryn’s waist.  
  
“This is Vela Marquez from President Zife’s office. She very kindly came to hand-deliver our itinerary for the Borderlands tour. Admiral Kjogo must have filled you in by now?”  
  
Vela Marquez extended her hand to Kathryn with a polished smile. “It’s an honour to meet you, Admiral Janeway.” She turned to Ryan. “I’d better be going, Councillor.”  
  
“Give my regards to the president,” Ryan called as the office door closed behind her, then turned back to Kathryn, taking her face in his hands. “This is great, huh? Us taking a trip together, influencing the future of the Federation.”  
  
“That’s a little hyperbolic, isn’t it?” Kathryn arched an eyebrow at him.  
  
“Isn’t that what we’re all here for – the good of the Federation?”  
  
She wasn’t sure what to think. His excitement was infectious and she couldn’t help the corners of her lips turning up, but she was still furious at Kjogo’s high-handedness and she wanted sympathy from her husband about the very thing that was giving him such joy. And then there was that young woman Marquez, who’d been standing just a little too close to him…  
  
Ryan’s thumbs were stroking her cheekbones. She watched his eyes darken and felt that now-familiar pulse and thrum of arousal, the ever-present headache fading to a dull background note.  
  
“Ryan –”  
  
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured, leaning in to nip at her lower lip. His hands slid down over her shoulders, one tugging at the zip on her jacket as the other settled onto her breast.  
  
“ _Ryan_.” She placed her hands against his chest. “We can’t do this here.”  
  
“Yes, we can,” he mumbled against her throat. Her jacket hung open now and his fingers were under her turtleneck, pushing it upward on his wrists.  
  
Kathryn felt her breath hitching in her throat. “This isn’t what I came here for…”  
  
“Whatever the reason,” his teeth closed over her nipple through the shirt as he deftly unfastened her pants, “you’re here now, so let’s make the most of it…”  
  
And then his fingers were inside her panties, stroking deliciously, and she shuddered and gave into him, as she always did.


	9. In Umbra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note - we earn the non-con warning in this chapter.

I know you've got a little life in you yet  
I know you've got a lot of strength left  
I should be crying, but I just can't let it show  
\- Kate Bush, _This Woman’s Work_  
  


* * *

 

 

**_Chapter Eight: In Umbra_**  
 _February, 2379_  
  
  
In the first week of February, Chakotay’s team in the Borderlands reported that they had finally made contact with a confirmed member of the Entera Coalition, a Trialan trader named Kash. She was, in fact, one of the rebels who’d taken over the Fermola mine several years earlier in the event that had prompted the rise of Entera.  
  
As Lieutenant Davis conveyed, Kash’s job was assessment and recruitment of Entera assets, mainly traders, suppliers and other peripherals. Recruiting a corrupt Starfleet captain with Intelligence clearance would be quite a feather in her dreadlocks, as Jonah Miles agreed when Chakotay proposed he return to Midrian and try to get recruited himself.  
  
He debated how much to tell Owen Paris, and finally decided to stick as close to the truth as possible. When she first went covert, Tilly Davis had posed as a Starfleet dropout; Chakotay’s plan was to claim a personal connection with her to foster Kash’s trust when Davis introduced them. His hope was that he would be quickly accepted into Entera’s inner circle and allow Davis to take a step back to become his messenger back to Admiral Paris.  
  
As he outlined this plan, he couldn’t help thinking that Paris suspected something – the man was no fool – but he simply nodded and signed off on the trip. It made Chakotay wonder if the admiral was working for Jonah Miles’ agency. Or worse: for Entera.  
  
That thought made him grimace. Section 31’s paranoia was rubbing off on him.  
  
Officially, his absence from Earth was recorded as a reconnaissance mission in the Borderlands; Paris had pointed out that he wasn’t trying to hide his Starfleet affiliation, just convince Entera that he was corruptible, and Miles had reminded him that Entera had influence within Starfleet and would almost certainly be checking his story.  
  
Arriving at Midrian, Chakotay hoped his cover would hold – and that he’d be able to keep all the lies straight in his own mind.  
  
He had a few hours with Tilly Davis to debrief and ensure their stories aligned before she introduced him to her Trialan contact, Kash. Chakotay thought privately that with her enlarged amber eyes, varicoloured dreadlocks and the tight, shiny leather clothing she favoured, Kash wouldn’t have looked out of place in one of Tom Paris’ science fiction holonovels.  
  
Kash turned out to be almost as cagey as Jonah Miles, but after she’d verified the snippets of classified information Chakotay fed her over the course of his first few weeks on Midrian, she eased up on the suspicion. By the beginning of March, Chakotay had uncovered the call numbers and warp signatures of the fleet Entera used to ship goods across the Borderlands and beyond. He’d even got a look at some of the cargo manifests. Weapons, technology and other illicit substances were secreted among more innocuous goods such as foodstuffs, ores and medical supplies. He had the evidence now that Entera was controlling a large fleet of illegal traders, and he had the identities of some of the people involved.  
  
But he was still locked out of the inner circle.  
  
“I need more,” he told Jonah Miles in one of his rare communiqués. “They won’t trust me unless I bring them something big, and I won’t give them any information that’s vital to Federation security. You’ll need to come up with something that’s going to convince Entera I’m on their side.”  
  
~What you need is a motive,~ Miles mused.  
  
“Such as?”  
  
Jonah gave him a smile full of teeth that made Chakotay’s hackles rise. ~Leave it with me.~  
  
“One more thing.” Chakotay held up a hand, and Miles paused in the act of reaching to close the channel. “Owen Paris. He’s not stupid, and I’m sure he knows I’m doing more here than hanging out in bars and chasing up dead-end leads.”  
  
~As long as you get results, Paris will continue to give you latitude.~  
  
“Tell me something, Miles. Is Owen Paris a member of your agency?”  
  
~You’d be surprised to discover just who our agents are, Captain. But for you own protection and theirs, you’re better off not knowing.~ Miles leaned forward. ~I’ll contact you in a couple of days,~ he finished, and the screen went blank before Chakotay could object.

 

* * *

 

  
The excursion to the Borderlands planets had been as mind-numbing as Kathryn had expected. She was talked over in meetings. Her appearance was complimented and her opinions ignored during lavish dinners. The press were ever-present, yet all they seemed to care about were her favourite recipes, her interior decorating preferences and how soon she and Ryan were planning to start a family.  
  
After two weeks of it, she was ready to scream.  
  
Ryan wasn’t helping either. He left her to field the inane media interviews while he offered his opinion on the serious matters. He cajoled her into dressing up for interminable dinners and balls and cocktail parties, but as soon as they’d garnered sufficient attention for their appearance together, he’d leave her to her own devices. Each night he’d make a point of asking her opinion on the day’s events, but when that opinion differed from his he’d try to argue her into submission. And if that didn’t work, he’d seduce her.  
  
Kathryn wasn’t sure what she’d have done if Tora Jens hadn’t accompanied them on the tour. After the third party at which Kathryn ended up buttonholed by some handsy diplomat and trying not to drink herself into tolerating it, she insisted on bringing Jens along to the social events.  
  
But that surfaced a new problem.  
  
Ever since she’d encountered Vela Marquez, the president’s aide, in Ryan’s office, Kathryn had been subconsciously watching the way her husband spoke and behaved around attractive women. At first she’d written it off as his inherently flirtatious nature – she was hardly a saint in that aspect herself, after all – but with each lingering touch, each look he held too long, each conversation that skirted the bounds of innocence, she doubted a little more.  
  
She wasn’t the only one. Tora Jens stood on the sidelines and watched with her as Ryan lit up each woman he spent time with, and the growing sympathy in her eyes made Kathryn want to squirm. And then one morning she slept late, waking to the sound of voices kept deliberately low through the half-open bedroom door, and when she crept quietly to peek into the next room she saw Tora with her back pressed up against the breakfast bar, and Ryan standing too close and smirking down at her.  
  
For a moment she thought the surge of nausea would overcome her, but then she noticed something. Tora wasn’t unfurling, softening, smiling up into Ryan’s face the way all those other women did – the way Kathryn herself did. She looked trapped, wary, even disgusted. She looked ready for a fight.  
  
Kathryn cleared her throat deliberately, and by the time she’d entered the room Ryan had stepped smoothly away from her aide and was making his smiling way toward her. If it hadn’t been for the residual relief on Tora’s face, Kathryn might not have believed her own eyes. By the time Ryan took her hands, kissed her and began to shuffle her back into the bedroom she had almost forgotten the whole incident.  
  
Sitting beside her husband in the president’s private shuttle as they headed back to Earth, Chakotay’s words kept echoing back to her: _When you’re together, do you feel out of control?_  
  
She’d been livid at the time – horrified and humiliated – but her compulsive reaction to Ryan’s touch, even when she was so mad at him she didn’t want him anywhere near her, could not be denied.  
  
By the time they got back to San Francisco she was exhausted, demoralised and preoccupied with doubts about her marriage. Thinking back on the months since she’d met Ryan, she couldn’t deny that the Kathryn Janeway who’d been caught up in a whirlwind romance and wooed into a hasty wedding was not someone she recognised. Isolated, overworked and struggling to cope with a life that wasn’t her own, it was no wonder she’d rushed into the arms of the first person who’d seemed to genuinely care about her.  
  
Chakotay was right: her life was out of control. And if he was right about that, maybe he was also right about the reasons why.  
  
She chose her moment with care, waiting until they were seated in the middle of a restaurant and surrounded by people – somewhere he couldn’t distract her with sex – before she sipped her wine and asked Ryan, “Tell me about your mother.”  
  
He paused in the act of chewing, then swallowed before replying. “I barely remember her. She died when I was young.”  
  
“On Vega Colony?” She watched him carefully. “What was her name?”  
  
“Adria,” he answered. “Why do you want to know?”  
  
“Well, I know all about your father, but you never mention your mom. I’m just trying to get to know you better.” She smiled at him. “You know all there is to know about me, after all.”  
  
“I doubt that,” he replied, setting down his fork and fixing her with an even look. “I’m pretty sure there’s a lot you haven’t told me about your former first officer, for one thing.”  
  
“What is that supposed to mean?”  
  
He shrugged. “I just find it hard to believe that you lived and worked side by side for seven years and nothing ever came of it.”  
  
Kathryn gripped the edge of her chair, a sharp pain stabbing her temple. “We were best friends,” she said harshly. “I’d hardly call that nothing.”  
  
“Uh-huh,” he said. “And now you can’t stand to be in the same room as him. What did he do to you, Kathryn?”  
  
“He didn’t do anything,” she ground out. “We just … grew apart. Sometimes familiarity breeds contempt.”  
  
“So it had nothing to do with him taking up with that gorgeous young blonde?”  
  
She flushed. “What are you implying?”  
  
Ryan opened his mouth, apparently thought better of it and reached across the table for her hand. “Nothing, honey. It’s just my jealousy talking again. I’m sorry, okay?”  
  
He smoothed his thumb over her knuckles, and a familiar tingling warmth spread along her arm and throughout her body, easing the agony in her head. She found herself relaxing, smiling back at him. “Apology accepted.”  
  
“Good,” he said and launched into a monologue about his upcoming meeting with the Federation president.  
  
It was only when she was lying in bed later, tired and sated from the exceptionally enthusiastic lovemaking Ryan had initiated the moment they were inside their apartment, that she realised he had once again adeptly distracted her from finding out what she wanted to know.

 

* * *

 

  
~I have new orders for you,~ Jonah Miles announced over the comm. ~I assume you haven’t been in contact with your sister on Trebus for some time?~  
  
“Not since you sent me out here,” Chakotay answered warily. “Why?”  
  
~You’re aware that Entera is in control of the dilithium mining operation on Trebus, of course. Your sister has apparently been lobbying for the Treban ruling council to close the mine.~  
  
Chakotay swore softly. “I told Sekaya to stay out of it. Is she in danger?”  
  
~Not if we play her interference to our advantage. I mentioned the last time we spoke that you needed a reason to insinuate yourself into Entera; well, here it is. You’re to let it be known that you’re willing to persuade Sekaya and the Treban ruling council to stand down in exchange for a portion of the profits from that mining operation, to be paid into your personal account.~  
  
“You’re serious.” Chakotay stared at the man on the viewscreen. “Even if I could make Entera fall for that, I’d never persuade Sekaya to step back.”  
  
~It’s your job to do both,~ Miles said flatly. ~Entera know you’re with Intelligence, but up until now they haven’t been sure you can be bought. You need to convince them that you can. And as for your sister, I’m sure you can explain to her that there’s more at stake here than her little planet.~  
  
“More at stake?” Chakotay rubbed his forehead. “The greater good of the Federation isn’t an argument that holds much weight with Sekaya. Nor would it with you, if your home world had been caught in the middle of a territorial pissing content between the Federation and the Cardassians.”  
  
~Then tell her that if she persists in her attempts to close that mine, Entera will not take it lying down. The situation will escalate into violence. If she doesn’t care about the Federation, tell her it’s for the good of your tribe.~

 

* * *

 

  
“Admiral Janeway.”  
  
Kathryn’s head shot up at the once-familiar voice of her former protégée. “Seven,” she blurted, standing so quickly she almost tipped over the café table. “I’ve been … thinking about you.”  
  
It was true, in a way. She’d been thinking about Chakotay. This was nothing new, but he’d been particularly forefront in her thoughts of late, and thinking of Chakotay led naturally to thinking of Seven. She knew it was a vast oversimplification of reality, but she couldn’t help the small, ugly part of her that believed Chakotay was no longer part of her life because of Seven.  
  
 _And because I’m married_ , she reminded herself harshly. As regretful as she was becoming over her hasty marriage, she still owed Ryan her fidelity in thought as well as in deed.  
  
Kathryn cleared her throat. “It’s good to see you, Seven. Would you like to sit down?”  
  
“Thank you.” Seven slid into the chair opposite. “I’m glad to see you too, Admiral. And I’d like to offer my congratulations.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Seven nodded toward Kathryn’s wedding ring. “On your marriage to Councillor Austin.”  
  
“Oh.” Kathryn tried a weak smile. “Well, thank you, Seven. And,” she took in a breath, “I was sorry to hear that you and Chakotay aren’t together anymore.”  
  
To her surprise, Seven’s gaze slid to the table. “No, Admiral. I’m the one who’s sorry.” She raised her head and looked directly into Kathryn’s eyes. “Had I known how you felt about each other, I would never have pursued him. Although I suppose it doesn’t matter now.” She glanced at the ring again.  
  
“How we felt about each other?” Kathryn’s fingers tightened around her coffee cup. “Seven, I hope you understand that Chakotay and I were never anything more than close friends…”  
  
“I understand that Starfleet protocols discourage romantic and sexual relationships between officers in the direct command chain, Admiral, and that this was at least partly the reason you never pursued such an association on _Voyager_. My inexperience prevented me from understanding the depth of your feelings for each other until recently. I … apologise that my relationship with Captain Chakotay interfered with your opportunity to pursue those feelings once we arrived on Earth.”  
  
Kathryn stared into the remnants of her coffee. “You aren’t to blame, Seven. Clearly it wasn’t meant to be.”  
  
Seven bent forward, dipping her head to catch Kathryn’s eye. “Are you happy?” she asked softly.  
  
Her heart lodged somewhere in her throat. She couldn’t push the words past it, even if she’d known what to say.  
  
“Are you?” she asked instead.  
  
“I am.” Seven’s lips turned upward at the corners. “It took commencing a relationship with Harry to clarify for me the difference between sexual attraction and love. With Chakotay, I was content, but something was missing. I know now what it was.”  
  
Kathryn looked up into Seven’s wide, beautiful smile. “What was it?”  
  
“Harry completes me,” Seven explained. “I don’t mean I’m less of a person without him. But he complements and challenges me. He listens to me and supports me, but he’s never afraid to stand up to me. I miss him when he’s absent, and I want to be physically close to him when he’s present. And I trust him more than any other person alive. I believe this is the definition of love.”  
  
“That sounds …” Kathryn had to swallow twice before she could speak, “about right.”  
  
“Then you understand.” Seven sounded relieved. “I’m glad you have found love, Admiral. You deserve to be happy.”  
  
Briefly touching Kathryn’s hand, she stood, excusing herself and leaving Kathryn alone with her coffee and her migraine.

 

* * *

 

  
~I cannot believe what I’m hearing, brother.~  
  
Sekaya’s dark eyes were murderous, and Chakotay sighed; this was going about as well as he’d predicted. “Sekky, please. There’s so much at stake here.”  
  
~Our _community_ is at stake!~ Sekaya exploded. ~These merchants want to steal our resources and drive us off our planet, just like the Cardassians. How can there be higher stakes than that?~  
  
“Sekaya, do you trust me?”  
  
She set her mouth in a mulish line.  
  
“I need you to do this,” he pleaded. “I promise you, I’ll make it right. You just have to have faith in me.”  
  
She was silent for a long time, reading his steady gaze. ~I hope you know what you’re doing, Amal,~ she said finally.  
  
 _So do I_ , thought Chakotay. “Thank you, little sister.”  
  
Signing off, he placed an immediate call to Kash, the Trialan who’d become his key contact within Entera. “I’ve made the deal,” he said without preamble. “You promised me four percent of the dilithium you mine from Trebus. I want it deposited into my personal account.”  
  
Kash’s amber eyes refracted the light, making it hard to read her expression, but the low purr coming from her throat told Chakotay she was pleased. ~Consider it done, Captain,~ she approved. ~Come to Ajilon Prime on Stardate 56259. There’s someone you should meet.~  
  
This was his chance to penetrate the inner circle of Entera, Chakotay realised. “I’ll be there.”  
  
His next communication was to Jonah Miles.  
  
“I’ve been invited to the Ajilon system next week. Any idea what’s going on?”  
  
Miles steepled his hands in front of his mouth. ~President Zife has lined up a series of meetings with Chancellor Martok of Qo’noS. Martok is displeased by the re-arming of Starfleet patrols on the Klingon borders. We expect representatives from the Orions and most of the trade worlds at the conference. There aren’t many independent worlds that welcome Starfleet’s attempt to lock down the trade routes, and some of them wouldn’t be too upset to see relations between the Federation and Qo’noS become strained.~  
  
Chakotay sighed. “You know, when I signed up to Starfleet it never occurred to me that I’d end up tightrope-walking between political puppeteers and slumming with latinum-hungry thugs. What happened to peaceful exploration and the quest to better ourselves?”  
  
Jonah Miles gave him an incredulous look. ~Peaceful exploration is the myth Starfleet sells its bright-eyed recruits to reel them in, Captain. And you are not naïve enough to believe that politics and latinum don’t make the world go around.~  
  
“You have no idea how deeply that depresses me, Agent Miles.” Chakotay pressed the button that ended the comm call and sat back, wiping a hand over his face.  
  
 _I can’t do this much longer_.  
  
He was so tired of lies, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt easy in his own skin. He longed for the company of someone he trusted implicitly, for small touches and easy silences. For lazy kisses and sunny mornings, and late nights wrapped up in the kind of intimacy that could only be forged by years of shared hopes and burdens.  
  
It was unfortunate that the someone he longed for was never, and would never be, his.

 

* * *

 

  
Shivers prickled her skin, reaching into the depths of a languorous dream, and Kathryn sighed from under soft layers of sleep. A warm hand stroked over her abdomen and curved under her waist, and she tilted her hips, seeking the heat of the lips that trailed upward along the inside of her thigh.  
  
“Kathryn,” murmured a voice, and she mumbled a protest, her mind grasping for the remnants of her dream. There had been sunshine streaming through sheer drapes and a large, rumpled bed and the satiny play of muscles under golden skin, and she felt so safe and so wholly, tenderly loved…  
  
Her body felt heavy, the hands and mouth that slid over her skin languid and slow. A tongue circled lazily around her hardened nub as a finger slipped an inch inside her. She moaned, and the sound of her own voice jolted her into awareness.  
  
“I thought you’d never wake up,” Ryan grinned as he dipped his head to taste her again.  
  
“Ryan,” she said, and stifled a groan as he swirled his expert tongue over her. She curled her fingers into his hair. “Ryan, stop.”  
  
“What for?” He moved her legs further apart. “You don’t have to do anything. Just lie back and enjoy.”  
  
“No, it’s not –” she caught her breath as he eased a second finger inside her, “I just don’t want –”  
  
“Shh.” He reared up smoothly, his erection pressing between her legs as he leaned down to kiss her.  
  
She pushed against his chest. “Ryan, come on. Let me up.”  
  
“I don’t think you really mean that.” He kissed her again, forestalling any further protests, and reached down to press his thumb to her clitoris.  
  
Kathryn moaned into his mouth. Her body was thrumming, just as it always did for him, and she was fast forgetting why she’d objected in the first place.  
  
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, and thrust inside her. She gasped and clung to him, nails digging into his shoulder as his hips drove him into her. “Tell me you want it.”  
  
“No, I –”  
  
He took her nipple between his teeth and her back arched, her legs locking helplessly around him.  
  
“Tell me,” he growled, thrusting harder. “Tell me nobody ever fucked you like I do. Tell me you’re mine.”  
  
“I – oh _God_!” she cried as he ground into her at that perfect angle and she came so hard stars burst behind her eyes.  
  
He laughed in triumph and surged into her, his body holding itself rigid until, with a satisfied grunt, he collapsed on top of her.  
  
As the stars receded and her sense of herself returned, Kathryn opened her eyes and heaved in a breath. She shoved at her husband’s shoulder. “Ryan, you’re squashing me.”  
  
He rolled obligingly to one side. “Told you you wanted it,” he smirked, draping a possessive hand over her thigh.  
  
Kathryn lay silent as his fingers traced lazily through their combined moisture. She started to tremble.  
  
Ryan leaned up on one elbow. “More?” he grinned, his fingers moving with purpose.  
  
She jerked away. “No.”  
  
He curled a hand around her hip, and she heaved herself off the bed.  
  
“Hey, what’s wrong?”  
  
She grabbed for her robe, belting it tightly, and faced him. “I said _no_ , Ryan. I didn’t want this.”  
  
A frown creased his forehead. “That’s not what your body was saying.”  
  
“But it’s what I was telling you!” The shakes were increasing and her breath was coming in shudders. “I said no, and you just – you ignored me. You don’t have the right!”  
  
“Kathryn –” He slid off the bed and took her hands, his face earnest. “I’m sorry, I honestly thought you –”  
  
“Well, I didn’t.” She snatched her hands away. “I can’t be around you right now. Just – get out,” and she darted into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind her.  
  
Her head felt light, her fingers cold. She glanced at herself in the mirror and saw a tight mouth and wide, hurt eyes.  
  
“Water shower,” she managed, “hot,” and as the spray jetted on obligingly, Kathryn sank onto the edge of the bathtub. She didn’t realise she was crying until hot tears splashed onto the silk of her robe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some Real Life drama going on at the moment, so I'm sorry to say that updates will probably slow down for a while. I hope you'll all bear with me and keep reading and reviewing. It means more to me than I can say.


	10. Broke Down

I know it breaks your heart  
Moved to the city in a broke down car and  
Four years, no calls  
Now you’re looking pretty in a hotel bar and  
I, I, I can’t stop  
-    The Chainsmokers ft Halsey, _Closer_  
  


* * *

  
  
**_Chapter Nine: Broke Down_**  
 _April, 2379_  
  
  
Ryan left the apartment, as she’d asked him to, and Kathryn stood under the shower until her shakes died down to a fine tremor, then dressed and activated her personal transporter, materialising in the anteroom of her office at Starfleet Headquarters.  
  
“Good morning, Admiral,” Lieutenant Jens greeted her. “The conference on Ajilon Prime has been confirmed and President Zife has requested you attend. You’ll be leaving at 1500 hours today.”  
  
It seemed to take a long time to process Jens’ words. “I thought Admiral Kjogo was taking that conference,” Kathryn said finally.  
  
“She’s coordinating the PR effort from Earth. The president is keen to smooth things over with the Klingons and he believes your presence at the conference will generate some positive publicity.” Jens shrugged sympathetically. “Here’s the travel itinerary.”  
  
She took the padd. “You’re coming, right?”  
  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
  
“Okay, good.” Kathryn stared unseeing at the padd. “Good.” She rubbed her forehead with a hand that she noticed too late was trembling and curled her fingers into a fist at her side. “How long as this conference supposed to last?”  
  
“Five days, with two days’ travel time either side.” Tora was watching her carefully. “I’m sorry you’ll be away from your husband for so long, especially so soon after your wedding.”  
  
Incredibly, Kathryn felt laughter bubble up from deep inside her, barely stifling a burst of it by dropping the padd to clamp both hands over her mouth.  
  
Jens looked alarmed. “Admiral, are you okay?”  
  
She reached out to touch Kathryn on the shoulder – a warm, gentle clasp of her hand. Gradually, Kathryn’s breathing slowed and her shakes eased away.  
  
“I’m fine,” she said eventually, and to her surprise she did feel clearer, more in control.  
  
And she had nine days’ reprieve to look forward to: nine days away from Earth, from Kjogo, from Ryan. Despite knowing she’d only be there as decoration, Kathryn felt light with relief.  
  
“Tora, could you clear my schedule for the day? I need – I’d like some time to – Just tell anyone who calls that I’m not to be disturbed.” She emphasised, “And I mean everyone, including my – including Councillor Austin.”  
  
“Of course, Admiral,” Jens replied, blue eyes clouded with concern. “Call me if you need anything.”  
  
“I will.”  
  
Ryan would be at work, she reminded herself as she left her office. It was safe to go back to her apartment. She had to pack, and she should call her mother to let her know she’d be away, and that would be easier from her own home.  
  
But the thought of walking through her own front door made her stomach roil. Instead, she stopped in at her favourite café for a coffee to go, and found herself wandering through the gardens behind it. This was where she’d last seen Chakotay. Where he’d told her Ryan was not who he claimed to be.  
  
God, why hadn’t she listened to him? No matter estranged they became, she had always known Chakotay would never lie to her. She’d trust him with her life.  
  
She was overcome with a wave of longing to be near him, and before she’d fully intuited her intention she was almost running toward the Turner Building, where Starfleet Intelligence was housed. If she could just see him, talk to him, maybe he could help her make sense of all this …  
  
His office was empty. Loitering in the hallway outside, Kathryn wondered what to do next.  
  
“Kathryn?”  
  
Her head jerked up. “Owen! I was just –”  
  
“Looking for Chakotay?” Owen gave her an understanding smile. “He’s out of the system. But since you’re here, why don’t you come into my office? I haven’t seen you since before your wedding. You can fill me in on what you’ve been up to.”  
  
He put a hand under her elbow and she let him guide her into his corner office and onto a plush armchair. Handing her a cup of coffee, Owen settled himself opposite her.  
  
“So,” he said, watching her, “how’s married life?”  
  
“Fine,” she said automatically.  
  
Owen raised his eyebrows and she gave herself a mental shake.  
  
“I’m just a little preoccupied. Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t bullshit me, Katie.” Owen laid a hand on her arm. “What’s bothering you? Is it Ryan?”  
  
She couldn’t stifle a bitter laugh. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”  
  
“Try me.”  
  
But Kathryn was already regretting her outburst, and waved a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. Forget I mentioned it.”  
  
He sat back, observing her. “I’ve known you for a long time. If your instincts are telling you something, you should trust them. I’ve never known them to be wrong.”  
  
Kathryn sighed, slumping into her chair. “Maybe I’m just tired. I’ve been on this goddamned PR rollercoaster since _Voyager_ came home. I’m surrounded by strangers and people who want something from me and I’ve barely even seen my family and I … I miss my crew. I miss them.” She leaned forward. “Tell me about Tom and B’Elanna, Owen. Tell me about Miral.”  
  
So he did. He told her about Tom’s promotion to lieutenant commander and his job training elite piloting cadets. He told her about B’Elanna, leading the engineering team that had picked apart _Voyager_ ’s adapted alien technology, and her new role designing enhanced warp engines for long-range vessels. He showed her holos of Miral, now a chubby, scowling fifteen-month-old who’d started taking apart replicators and waste reclamation units.  
  
And Kathryn relaxed and laughed for what felt like the first time in years.  
  
After their third cup of coffee, Owen’s aide poked his head around the doorway. “Sir, you have a meeting in five minutes.”  
  
“God, what time is it?” Kathryn checked her chrono; it was noon. “I have to go or I’ll be late for my transport. Thank you,” and she stepped into her former mentor’s arms for a hug. “You have no idea how badly I needed this.”  
  
“Any time.” Owen hugged her back. “And if you don’t mind a piece of advice from an old man – don’t let anyone run your life anymore. I don’t care if it’s a fleet admiral, your husband or the president of the Federation. You need people around you that you can trust and depend on.” He paused. “And dare I say it, I think you know who those people are. You came here looking for one of them.”

* * *

  
  
From their first night at the Ajilon Prime conference, Tora Jens had demonstrated an impressive ability to charm the attending traders and diplomats, relieving Kathryn of much of the burden of her usual smile-and-flirt routine. Grateful, she was now taking advantage of the opportunity to fade into the background for a change.  
  
Two seats down an Orion was holding a terse, low-voiced conversation with a Rigellian, and Kathryn leaned against the bar, sipping champagne and politely trying not to listen in. It was difficult; snatches of it kept floating through her preoccupation with the harsh words she and Ryan had exchanged over the comm when she was safely ensconced on the transport to Ajilon.  
  
“… signed a treaty with Midrian. How will that impact on…”  
  
 _We need to talk about this, Kathryn._ Ryan’s eyes had been hard with anger.  
  
 _What is there to talk about?_ she’d fired back. _You seem to have difficulty with the concept of consent._  
  
“… new trade route to the Cardassian Union. I hear Starfleet are…”  
  
 _I’ve said I’m sorry_ , Ryan had sighed. _What more do you want from me?_  
  
 _I need some time away from you_. Hurt had lodged hard in her throat. _If I can’t trust you to respect me, I’m not sure I can stay married to you._  
  
“… the president. Martok demanded he pull back his border patrols…”  
  
 _Don’t say that_ , he’d pleaded, reaching for her image on the comm screen. _Kathryn, I love you._  
  
 _You picked a strange way to show it_. She’d shaken her head. _I need time, Ryan. At least give me that._  
  
“… new deal with Trans-Quadrant Express?”  
  
Kathryn jerked into the present.  
  
“So I heard,” the Orion was saying. “Everyone wants to deal with TQE now. That pretty-boy CEO made a smart move, running for Federation Council.”  
  
The Rigellian snorted. “Doesn’t matter. We control the Verex to Tomed run, and the Sona are in our pocket. TQE won’t break into those sectors, no matter who’s bankrolling them.”  
  
The Orion murmured something Kathryn didn’t catch, and the pair of them moved away.  
  
She stared unseeing into her glass. _Bankrolling them?_ she wondered. Ryan had told her his company was partially funded by the Federation, but to her knowledge the Federation had no intention of taking over trade routes controlled by the Orions. And Ryan’s company freighted medical supplies to planets in need. Why would they be expanding into the merchant routes?  
  
Had he lied to her about the cargo he transported?  
  
And if he’d lied about that, what else wasn’t he telling her?  
  
 _I think Ryan is half-Deltan, and he’s using his genetic abilities to manipulate you._  
  
Nausea gripped her stomach and she shoved her empty glass onto the bar and pushed through the crowd, riding the ‘lift up to her hotel room. Stripping off her dress, she tugged on leggings and a long, loose shirt, sat cross-legged on the bed and fired up the portable console she’d brought with her.  
  
“Computer, access Federation civilian database. Display all known records pertaining to Councillor Ryan Austin.”  
  
Thirty minutes later she got up and went to the replicator and ordered a double whiskey, which she drank in two gulps with shaking hands.  
  
She supposed this was the information Chakotay had discovered. Unbelievable as it seemed in this day and age, the identity of Ryan’s mother was a mystery. But given the high proportion of Deltans living on Vega Colony it wasn’t a stretch to surmise that she had been, as Chakotay believed, Deltan.  
  
Kathryn was well aware of the effect of unsuppressed Deltan pheromones on most humanoid species: addiction, susceptibility to mind-control, even insanity. But she had met Deltans before, even served with them. Most either took a benevolent approach to using their natural abilities and became healers – they could absorb and minimise pain – or chose to take an oath of celibacy to protect their crewmates and colleagues.  
  
Some Deltans, though, chose a darker path. It happened rarely. But it did happen, and she was beginning to believe she’d had the terrible luck to marry one.  
  
Almost equally disturbing was the discovery that theirs wasn’t Ryan’s first marriage, a fact he’d neglected to mention to her. She couldn’t understand why he’d keep it a secret when she had been quite open with him about her own unfulfilled engagements to Justin and Mark.  
  
How many secrets was he keeping from her?  
  
She couldn’t prove anything. It was all half-truths and implications, data missing or perhaps deliberately obscured. All she had was her instinct, and it was screaming at her that the man she’d married had been lying to her – and everyone else – about who he really was.  
  


* * *

  
  
Chakotay tossed his tote bag on the hotel bed and stripped off the nondescript shirt and pants he’d donned for the shuttle ride to Ajilon, throwing them in the refresher. His uniform was stuffed into the bottom of the bag. He wouldn’t be wearing it for the next few days; his Entera insider, Kash, had told him to dress inconspicuously. It wasn’t as though Chakotay’s allegiance was a secret to Kash’s superiors, she’d said, but there was no need to draw attention to it.  
  
Besides, the only Starfleet officers at this conference formed President Zife’s personal contingent, and it was best if Chakotay avoided them. The fewer questions asked about his presence, the safer he’d be, Kash claimed.  
  
Avoiding them didn’t look like it would be a problem. Zife and his hangers-on were sticking to the opulent functions hosted in hotels around the centre of Ajilon City, and Kash had already informed Chakotay that the meeting she’d lined up with an Entera representative would be taking place in a less prominent location.  
  
He ducked under the shower to scrub the travel grime away, towelled off and pulled on another unremarkable outfit of jeans, turtleneck sweater and a heavy overcoat against the outside chill. Kash would be stopping by any minute now to pick him up for the meeting she’d arranged. He wondered if this was it – his lucky break, his ticket to the upper echelons – or if he’d have to be satisfied with more mid-level lackeys.  
  


* * *

  
  
Her console beeped, jarring Kathryn out of contemplating the bottom of her whiskey glass.  
  
 _Incoming transmission from Fleet Admiral Nyla Kjogo_ , the computer informed her.  
  
She’d avoided a couple of prime photo opportunities over the past few days, and she’d been expecting this call. Sighing, Kathryn drained her glass before switching on the viewer.  
  
“What can I do for you, Admiral?”  
  
~You can tell me what you’re playing at, Kathryn. I thought I’d been clear about your purpose on Ajilon.~  
  
“Dress like an expensive tart, flirt with important men and smile for the cameras,” Kathryn answered flatly. “Yes, Admiral. You’ve made your orders perfectly clear.”  
  
Kjogo’s eyes narrowed. ~I’m glad we understand each other. When do you plan to start holding up your end of the bargain instead of hiding in your hotel room?~  
  
“Bargain.” Kathryn snorted out a hollow laugh. “What bargain is that, Admiral? The one where you own me for the rest of my life? What is it that I get out of this bargain, exactly?”  
  
Kjogo sat back. ~You’re overwrought,~ she stated. ~Maybe I’m pushing you too hard. Why don’t you take the night off? Get some sleep, and I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning. Have Jens book you into a spa for a couple of hours tomorrow.~  
  
Kathryn eyed her suspiciously. “This is … unlike you, Admiral.”  
  
~You’re in this for the long haul, Kathryn.~ Kjogo smiled. ~And neglecting your health isn’t good for the baby.~  
  
She almost dropped her glass. “What baby?”  
  
~The one I’m counting on you to produce some time in the next year. Surely you see how good it’ll be for your image.~  
  
Kathryn gaped at her. “Admiral, I don’t even know where to _start_ with that statement.”  
  
~Well, you’re not getting any younger, so you’d better not waste any more time. I’m certain Councillor Austin agrees with me on this.~  
  
She went rigid. “Oh, are you?”  
  
~So he says.~  
  
“When did he say that, exactly?”  
  
Kjogo shrugged. ~At Councillor Betek’s dinner last night. He mentioned how pleased he would be when you stopped your booster shots.~ Her eyes cut right and she nodded to someone Kathryn couldn’t see. ~Duty calls. Get a good night’s rest, Kathryn. I expect you on top form tomorrow.~  
  
The screen blinked off.  
  
Kathryn sat in trembling silence for a moment. Then she flung her empty glass at the wall and screamed.  
  
The shattering of the glass kicked her shakes into high gear and she jagged to her feet, pacing her hotel room. The walls were closing in on her. She took a shuddering breath and forced her pulse to slow.  
  
She had to get out of there. Shoving her feet into comfortable boots, she grabbed a hooded cloak from the closet, dropped a few credit chips into the pocket and strode out of the room, wishing she could slam the door behind her.  
  


* * *

  
  
Chakotay ducked his head under the low mantel of the doorway and followed Kash into a dimly-lit room where the only sounds were the chink of gambling chips and the hushed murmur of conversation. He blinked against the gloom.  
  
A bouncer gestured for him to remove his coat, and Chakotay held still while the man patted him and Kash down for weapons. At the bouncer’s nod, Kash grabbed his elbow to lead him over to a table.  
  
A Caitian sprawled in one of the hard-backed chairs, his long tail coiled over his arm. His felinoid eyes narrowed as Kash and Chakotay approached.  
  
“So this is our tame Starfleet captain?”  
  
Chakotay inclined his head. “Captain Chakotay. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
  
The Caitian made a purring sound that Chakotay guessed was a laugh. “Sit down, Captain. Kash, fetch us a drink.”  
  
Chakotay eased into the chair opposite. He’d recognised the man instantly, but was unsure whether to let on until the Caitian inclined his head.  
  
“You know who I am.”  
  
“Premier Sina of Regulus.”  
  
“I’d have been disappointed if you didn’t recognise me.”  
  
Kash slid into a third chair, sloppily depositing a couple of glasses in front of them. Chakotay picked his up to study it. Romulan ale.  
  
“I wasn’t aware that Regulus was involved with Entera,” he said, sipping cautiously.  
  
Sina gave him a satisfied smile. “Then we’re doing our job well. I expect you’d be surprised to discover the extent of our reach. But first things first.”  
  
He drained his ale and set down the glass, leaning in so close his tail brushed Chakotay’s sweater. “You performed a favour for us by ensuring our continued access to the Treban dilithium mine,” the Caitian said. “I’m aware you’ve been compensated, but I’m interested to know if you’re prepared to offer us further favours. You’d be well-rewarded, of course.”  
  
“What kind of favours?”  
  
Sina watched him closely. “We have a contact on one of the Starfleet patrols in the Borderlands. He’s been quite useful to us in keeping Starfleet and the Orions away from our trade routes. Unfortunately, we’re no longer certain he’s trustworthy. A shipment of great value to us was recently lost en route from the Cardassian Union on his watch.”  
  
“I see. What is it you want from me?”  
  
“We want you to observe him. Find out if he’s playing both sides and report your findings to us. Nothing more, at this stage.” The Caitian smiled. “Consider it a test of both your loyalty and his.”  
  
Chakotay nodded. “Shouldn’t be too hard. What’s his name?”  
  
“It’s not necessary to divulge that at this time. You’ll be leaving Ajilon Prime tomorrow. In a few days you’ll be provided with everything you need to know.” He slid a couple of credit chips across the table. “Until then, enjoy the city with our compliments. Kash will introduce you to the charms of its nightlife.”  
  
It was clearly a dismissal, so Chakotay stood and said his goodbyes, then followed Kash out of the gambling hall.  
  
“That went well,” Kash offered, rubbing her hands.  
  
“If you say so.”  
  
Kash shrugged. “He didn’t shoot you on sight – I’d call that a success. Come on, let’s get a drink.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Avoiding the glittering, gilded hotels and bars in the city centre, Kathryn trudged through streets and alleys until the low boom of music drew her to a dingily-lit doorway. She pushed open the door and squinted into the low light of the club. One glance at the clientele and the barely-clad Orion dancers wandering the room told her she was unlikely to run into any of the president’s contingent in here, but still, she had no intention of being recognised. She kept her cloak on and her hood up as she took a seat at the bar.  
  
“Yridian whiskey, straight up,” she ordered, tossing a credit chip on the bar. “And keep them coming.”  
  
Getting drunk wasn’t going to solve her problems, she decided midway through the second glass. And tonight it didn’t seem to be numbing the pain either. She rested her elbow on the bar and dropped her head into her hand, eyes closed, letting the thumping beat of the music roll through her body.  
  
 _How could I have mistaken this for love, or something close to it?_ she wondered. Was she really so lonely that she’d allowed a sexual predator to charm his way into her life? To _marry_ her?  
  
“… think that dancer likes you, Captain,” uttered a low feminine voice beside her. “Fifty credits and you can take her home.”  
  
“She’s not really my type,” a man responded with a chuckle.  
  
Kathryn’s eyes shot open.  
  
“Well if you’re not interested, I am,” the female said. “Our transport leaves at 0600. Don’t be late.”  
  
The man leaned in beside Kathryn and motioned to the Andorian behind the bar. “Yridian whiskey,” he ordered with a sigh.  
  
The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Popular choice tonight.”  
  
Kathryn huddled into her cloak.  
  
“Excuse me?” her neighbour asked.  
  
The Andorian nodded in her direction. “You and the lady might as well share a bottle.” He capped it and left it on the bar between them, turning away to serve another customer.  
  
Kathryn squeezed her eyes shut, gathered her courage and pushed back her hood as she turned to Chakotay.  
  
His eyes went wide.  
  
“Don’t say it,” she joked feebly. “What’s a nice girl like me doing in a place like this?”


	11. Hours of Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week since my last update, so here's a [refresher on the story so far](https://mia-cooper.tumblr.com/post/178243911428/desperate-measures-recap) in case you need it.
> 
> And a [handy map reference](http://www.sttff.net/AST_MAP.html) in case you need to know exactly where people are at all times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to LittleObsessions and Helen8462, who worked tirelessly with me on this chapter and never let me get away with taking the easy way out. Despite having rewritten it twice (and betaed twice), I've messed with it since, so anything you don't like about it's my fault, not theirs.
> 
> The rating goes up with this chapter.

Still my heart this moment  
Or it might burst  
Could we stay right here  
Until the end of time until the earth stops turning  
\- Lamb, _Gorecki_  
  


* * *

  
  
 ** _Chapter Ten: Hours of Moments_**  
 _April, 2379_  
  
  
He tore his eyes from her to glance around fearfully, and the next thing she knew, he’d yanked the hood back over her head, grabbed her elbow and was hustling her out of the club.  
  
“Chakotay, what the hell?” she hissed as they burst out onto the street.  
  
“Kathryn, shut up. Just – shut up.”  
  
Suddenly she was furious. “I’ve had just about enough of people telling me what to do –”  
  
“ _Please_ ,” he uttered through clenched teeth as he dragged her along the street and into a building. He keyed an access code into the elevator panel and pulled her into the lift.  
  
“Where are we?” she demanded.  
  
“This is my hotel.”  
  
She opened her mouth to verbally scour him and was halted – and infuriated – by a volley of sneezes. It silenced her until after the lift stopped and he tugged her into a short corridor, through a door and into a small room containing a single tiny couch and an oversized bed. Depositing her on the couch, Chakotay crouched in front of her, his eyes searching her face.  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
Kathryn sneezed again and he handed her a tissue. “I must be allergic to something. Chakotay, what –”  
  
“I wasn’t talking about _that_ ,” he growled. “I was talking about you drinking alone in the rough part of town.”  
  
She stared at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding? I was perfectly fine until you decided to go all macho on me. What the hell is going on?”  
  
He stood, yanking off his coat and tossing it over the back of the couch, glancing at her as he started to pace. “You could have been in danger. What were you doing in that place?”  
  
“Danger? It was just a club, Chakotay. If you recall, I’ve been in far more dangerous places than that.”  
  
He huffed out a laugh. “Oh, I know. Your tendency to get yourself into dangerous situations is legendary. Seven years in the Delta quadrant apparently didn’t teach you a thing about self-preservation.”  
  
Kathryn jumped to her feet, her hands taking up their familiar position on her hips. “Who do you think you are?”  
  
Chakotay turned on her, hands gripping her shoulders, almost shouting into her face. “Who do I think I am? I’m the one who usually ended up coming to your rescue, hoping to God you’d still be in one piece when I got you back!”  
  
The echo of his words died into the silent room as Kathryn stared at him, open-mouthed.  
  
His hands dropped to his sides and he shut his eyes. “I’m sorry. That was way out of line.”  
  
She sank slowly to the couch and he slumped into the seat beside her.  
  
“What are you doing here, Chakotay?” she asked. “On Ajilon, I mean.”  
  
“I’m...” He hesitated. “I'm on a mission.”  
  
“Doing what?”  
  
“I can't tell you.“  
  
She watched him, gaze sharp. “Why not?”  
  
“It's classified,” he said, reluctant.  
  
She raised an eyebrow. “I could order you to.”  
  
“No, Admiral,” he said gently. “You couldn't.”  
  
“Because it's an Intelligence operation,” she deduced. “And you're not in my chain of command.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Are you in danger?” Her voice was quiet.  
  
He shrugged. “No more than usual.”  
  
She frowned, considering then discarding angles of attack that might trip him up, trick him into revealing more than he should. But her head ached so, and she couldn’t seem to form a cohesive train of thought.  
  
“What were you doing in that bar?” he asked quietly after a long, tense silence.  
  
“I was…” To her dismay, her throat was closing up. “I just… had to get away.”  
  
“From what?” He was looking at her now, concern etched on his forehead.  
  
“From everything,” she swallowed against the thickness of tears. “I just needed – needed to b-breathe,” and to her infinite horror, a sob burst out of her throat. She hid her face in her hands.  
  
“Kathryn –” He touched her shoulder tentatively and she gritted her teeth, but it was no use. Her emotional fortifications crumbled into great, gulping sobs, and the next thing she knew, strong arms were around her and her face was pressed against his warm, solid chest.  
  


* * *

  
  
She felt hot and prickly, even after tugging off her cloak and rolling up her shirtsleeves. It was partly the ambient temperature; the room’s thermostat didn’t appear to dip below twenty-six degrees Celsius and Chakotay had already pulled off his sweater, forcing Kathryn to avert her eyes from the sight of his broad chest in a white t-shirt. But mostly it was the shame of such an unguarded display of emotion. She had, it seemed, no defences anymore, and no way to control her own reaction to him.  
  
To add to her mortification, she’d been unable to stop sneezing until he’d dialled up an antihistamine hypospray from the hotel replicator and applied it gently to her neck. Between her streaming nose and her tears, Kathryn didn’t even want to imagine how pitiful she must appear.  
  
“Thanks,” she mumbled, subdued, as Chakotay passed her yet another tissue and a cup of coffee. She took a fortifying sip and placed it on the side table, forcing herself to add, “I’m sorry for subjecting you to my emotional breakdown.”  
  
“Kathryn.” He looked at her so kindly she couldn’t bear it and dropped her gaze again. He touched her knee with his fingertips. “You have nothing to apologise for. It seemed like that’s been building up for a long time.”  
  
She stared down at his hand. “You have no idea.”  
  
“Really?” There was a gentle, lightly-amused lilt to his voice. “My guess is it’s been coming for oh, around eight years now.”  
  
Kathryn huffed. “I always said you could’ve been a counsellor.”  
  
“I have my moments.”  
  
She shrugged a shoulder uncomfortably. “It was still embarrassing.”  
  
“Actually, I'm flattered.”  
  
She cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him.  
  
Chakotay picked up her hand, cradling it in his own. “It means you still trust me,” he said, his voice soft. “You don't know how much that means to me, Kathryn.”   
  
She studied him. There was kindness in his eyes, affection, concern. But beneath those gentler, more predictable emotions she read something she hadn’t seen for far too many years.  
  
 _Or maybe_ , she thought as her heart kicked up and her lips parted on an indrawn breath, _I just haven’t been looking_.  
  
Almost of its own accord, her free hand lifted to trace the line of his jaw and she watched his eyes darken further. Her gaze dropped to his lips, and she brushed her thumb across them. The eloquent sound he made in response sparked a tense, blooming pulse deep inside her.  
  
Without another thought, she closed the distance between them.  
  
His lips were as soft as she’d always known they would be, and his sharp intake of breath dragged a moan up from her throat. She caught his lower lip between her own, running her tongue along it and nipping at it lightly. His lips were parted against hers, pliant, accepting as she sipped at them, as she licked into his mouth, but she could feel him holding back, his body rigid and tense as though he was afraid to move.  
  
As though he was waiting for something; for her to come to her senses, maybe. Or for her permission.  
  
That was it, Kathryn realised, the knowledge pushing a sweet ache into her throat. She wove her fingers into his and tugged gently to bring their joined hands up between their bodies, to cradle them against her chest. Her fingers fumbled to open the first button on her shirt and she pressed his hand flat over her heart, shuddering at the feel of his warm palm on her skin.  
  
He exhaled shakily and she deepened the kiss, curling her free hand behind his neck to clasp him to her. She felt his other hand steal onto her hip, skimming lightly upward over her waist, felt the moment his passive endurance shifted and he began to respond, then take control. His mouth moved gently over hers. A tremor ran through her and she had to tip her head back to gasp in air. He took advantage of her exposed throat to trail kisses softly along it, humming in response to her low moan.  
  
“Chakotay,” she whispered, “I want you.”  
  
His hand, which had been tracing the span of her ribs, stilled, and he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers to catch his breath.  
  
“We can’t …” but his words were at odds with the way his gaze dropped to her lips, the way he cupped her face toward his.  
  
She shifted back just enough to meet his eyes, opening hers to him and hiding nothing. “Yes, we can. Chakotay, I’ve waited so long…”  
  
“Kathryn,” he looked away, “you’re married.”  
  
The laugh that burst out of her was half a sob. “You tried to tell me. I wouldn’t listen, but you were right about him. He manipulated me and he used me, and our marriage is over.” She brushed her lips against his. “I’ve always wanted this. Be with me.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
She heard the crack in his voice and knew with certainty that whatever he’d once felt for her, it hadn’t faded. It was almost inconceivable that all those years of tension and disagreements, of denials and neglect, hadn’t killed their feelings for each other.  
  
“This is the only thing I’m sure of,” she told him, and with shaking hands she unfastened the next button on her shirt, and then the next, until it slipped open and she let her hands fall loosely into her lap, her chest rising and falling quickly as she waited for whatever he did next.  
  
He gave a quiet groan from behind clenched teeth. His stare was fixed on her body and his hand raised, hovering in mid-air. When he dragged his gaze up to hers, the heat in his eyes tightened her spine and set a pulse fluttering low in her belly.   
  
“I really want to touch you,” Chakotay said, gravel in his voice.  
  
“So what are you waiting for?” she asked, breathless, and in one smooth movement he spread his hands around her waist, tugged her across his lap and took her mouth with a hunger that stole her breath.  
  
 _Oh, God_ , was her only coherent thought as the hard press of him between her legs sent lust firing through every nerve in her body. Through their layers of clothing she felt him swelling, straining against her, felt the sharp answering throb that started her hands trembling and her body pressing helplessly closer.  
  
This was nothing like the feverish, consuming need she felt with Ryan. This was overwhelming in an entirely different way, and she couldn’t believe she had ever confused the two.  
  
“Kathryn,” he growled into her throat, and then he was standing and her legs were wrapping around his hips as he stumbled the few short steps to lay her on the bed.  
  
She yanked at his t-shirt, almost tearing it in her need to get it over his head so she could press her lips to the hard golden chest she had touched so many times through the barrier of his uniform. He wrestled off her shirt and she arched to fumble with the clasp of her bra, his hot mouth closing over her nipple as soon as she was bared to him. Boots were kicked away, pants and underwear toed downward, and then they were both naked and she couldn’t stifle the hitch in her throat as he moved between her opened thighs. She was liquid, molten with urgency and need, and as he began to kiss his way down her belly she shook her head in desperation.  
  
“Now, Chakotay,” she rasped. “I need you _now_.”  
  
The involuntary tilt of her hips as he raised himself above her, his eyes searching hers, seemed to be all the confirmation he needed. Slowly, so slowly, he pushed inside her. She felt the stretch and throb of her inner muscles as he pressed his forehead to hers, gritting his teeth against his precarious control.  
  
“Please,” she almost whimpered, writhing against him mindlessly as he drew back. He surged into her, wringing soft, drawn-out cries from her lips as she squeezed around him. With each outward slide and inward thrust she held him to her tighter, clutched him inside her, wrapped herself around him, imagining she’d never have to let him go. He raised himself on his forearms to watch her face as he ground into her, and Kathryn felt the flush bloom on her chest. She threw her head back, crying out as her body clenched and shook, bringing him over the edge with her into an oblivion from which she never wanted to return.  
  


* * *

  
  
When their breathing finally slowed she pulled him down and wrapped her arms around him. Tears brimmed from under her closed lids and he felt them dampen his cheek where it pressed against hers.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Alarmed, Chakotay propped himself on his elbows, eyes searching her face. “Did I hurt you?”  
  
“No,” she half-laughed. “It was wonderful. You were wonderful.”  
  
 “Then why are you crying?” He brushed a thumb gently beneath her eye.  
  
“Because I always knew it would be like this.”  
  
He felt an answering smile soften his face. “So did I.”  
  
He couldn’t stop gazing at her. Fantasies of how she would look in this moment, of how he’d feel, had fuelled his imagination for years. And now here she was, her slender frame secure in his arms, her bare skin flush against his, her mouth soft from his kisses. He didn’t quite know how or why they’d ended up here, now of all times. But as he looked at her, drank her in, catalogued the strength of her arms around him, the feel of her soft breasts and her impossibly velvety skin, the inevitable, inescapable rightness of it settled into his bones and infused his every nerve and sinew with joy.  
  
It seemed Kathryn was experiencing the same thing. She reached up to trace his jaw, a slow smile blossoming on her lips as he nuzzled his mouth into her palm. He felt her catch her breath at the sensation of his teeth scraping lightly on the heel of her hand, and his eyes sharpened, focused on hers. He shifted, and twitched inside her, swelling further as she gasped and arched her back.  
  
Her tears were forgotten now, her eyes sliding shut as he dipped his head, his lips moving lightly over her throat and drifting downward to close around one nipple. The heat and pull of his mouth made her squirm and moan. He was almost fully hard again. He gave a slow, experimental thrust and she twined her legs around his hips and clutched his shoulders, the sharp bite of her nails bringing him to full swell.  
  
It would be so easy just to let it happen.  
  
Chakotay lifted his head. “Kathryn,” he said, and waited until she opened her eyes.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Can we talk now?”  
  
Tension crept back into her limbs. She pulled away, sitting up to clutch the sheet to her chest. She looked shame-faced.  
  
“What you must think of me,” she mumbled.  
  
“Don’t do that,” he said quietly. “Kathryn, I meant it when I said I’d always be here for you.”  
  
She managed a rueful smile. “Somehow I doubt this was what you had in mind.”  
  
Chakotay ducked his head to hide the appearance of his dimples. “I’ve had _this_ in mind for going on eight years,” he confessed, and glanced up at her.  
  
To his relief, her lips twitched and the stiffness melted from her body. “Me, too.”  
  
He felt his eyes soften as he looked at her.  
  
“I can’t believe we finally did it,” she said, half to herself.  
  
“It was worth the wait.”  
  
Kathryn glanced away, her smile fading. “Worth the wait,” she echoed. “Sometimes I can’t even remember what I was waiting for.”  
  
Chakotay hesitated, unsure what to say. “You made the best decisions you could at the time,” he finally settled on.  
  
“I was arrogant,” she replied, meeting his gaze. “I made decisions for both of us and I never even talked to you about it.”  
  
“It’s okay,” his voice was soft, “I understood. The ship came first. You were doing your duty.”  
  
She huffed without humour. “I was scared, Chakotay.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“You weren’t.” Kathryn almost sounded accusing. “You always seemed so centred. So certain.”  
  
He gave a disbelieving laugh. “Is that what you thought? I was terrified, Kathryn. You turned my life inside out,” he shook his head as she curled into herself, “and I’m not talking about destroying the Array. I’m talking about _you_.”  
  
Her fingers worried at the sheet. “And Seven?” she asked harshly. “How did that come about?”  
  
Chakotay sighed. “Seven and I … we were each of us searching for something, and we fulfilled that for each other for a while. Looking back, it never would’ve lasted.”  
  
“Don’t be so sure of that.”  
  
“I know what she said, that future version of you,” he said firmly. “Whatever happened in her timeline, it’s never going to happen now. Seven is happier with Harry than she ever would have been with me. And I’m so sorry that we hurt you… that I hurt you.”  
  
“It’s no worse than I deserved,” she half-whispered. “Sometimes I think it would be better if you had never met me.”  
  
“Don’t ever think that.” Her entire body was written in lines of defeat and Chakotay couldn’t stand it. “You once said you couldn’t imagine a day without me. Well, I can’t imagine my life without having known you.”  
  
She made a sound that was part laugh and part sob, but the despair began to ease from her limbs and she scrubbed at her face with the heel of her hand. He wanted to pull her close, to kiss her again, but he suspected he knew where that would lead and there were things he needed to know first.  
  
“You said your marriage is over,” he reminded her. “What did you mean?”  
  
Kathryn drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, tear-dampened eyes cast downward. “Let’s just say I no longer have any illusions that Ryan ever loved me.”  
  
Chakotay reached out tentatively and she let him take her hand.  
  
“You were right all along,” she said. “He used me to leverage his election campaign. He never cared about me. He – he manipulated me, and he tricked me into … And when I tried to resist, he –” She broke off abruptly.  
  
“He what?” There was a hollow feeling in his stomach. “What did he do, Kathryn?”  
  
“He did what he wanted,” she said tiredly, “in spite of my objections.”  
  
“He forced you?”  
  
“Not in his mind.” She hunched her shoulders. “I said I didn’t want it – I said no, more than once, but … my body responded to him. And for him, that was enough.”  
  
“Kathryn,” he said, the ache turning his voice to gravel, and her face crumpled and she hid it in her folded arms.  
  
Chakotay squeezed her hand gently. He could hear the hitch in her breathing that told him she was struggling for control and he longed to put his arms around her. But considering what she’d just told him, that had to be her choice.  
  
“I don’t know what to do,” she said, muffled. “I just feel so _stupid_.”  
  
He frowned, choosing his words carefully. “It’s not my place to tell you what to do, but you don’t deserve to be treated that way. Nobody does.”  
  
Her body stiffened and she pulled her hand back from his. “You’re right. It’s not your place.”  
  
To hell with caution. “Please tell me you’re not considering going back to him.”  
  
Her retort, when it came, was sharp with a hurt he didn’t quite comprehend. “I suppose that’s my decision to make, isn’t it?”  
  
“Kathryn…”  
  
“It’s not like you’re going to be around, anyway,” she went on, and pressed her lips together, not quite hiding the quaver in her voice.  
  
Understanding dawned, and with it came helplessness. _I’ll save you_ , he longed to promise her, _I’ll take you away where he’ll never find you_ , but he bit his tongue. She was right; duty meant that was not a vow he could make to her.  
  
“You don’t have to do this alone, Kathryn,” he said instead.  
  
“Of course I do,” she answered so tonelessly it made him ache. “I’m always alone.”  
  
“Kathryn…”  
  
“No. It’s fine, Chakotay, really.” She lifted her chin to look at him directly, her eyes dry and cool. “You don’t have to comfort me. I can take care of myself.”  
  
“This is different,” he said flatly.  
  
“Like you said,” she replied, “it’s not your place to tell me what to do. You’re not serving on my ship. You don’t owe me anything.”  
  
He stared at her. “This has nothing to do with the chain of command. You’re my _friend_.”  
  
“Your friend,” she repeated blankly, then laughed. “Is that what I am?”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“No,” she said tightly, “what are _you_ talking about? You don’t have the right to decide how I should live my life.” Her voice was rising with every word.  “We’re not friends, _Captain_. We’re just two strangers who had sex!”   
  
He could see her breathing rapidly as the echoes of her accusation died away in the silent room. And he wanted nothing more than to protest, to deny what she’d said, to insist that they were closer than friends – closer even than lovers – and would always be so.  
  
He couldn’t.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.  
  
He held out his hand, palm up, and after a moment her shoulders loosened and she sighed, her fingers curling around his. Her head was bowed but he could see her biting her lip.  
  
“I had no right to do anything I’ve done with you tonight,” he hesitated, and honesty prompted him to continue, “but I can’t regret this. I just wish …”  
  
“What?” she asked, and there was no anger left in her voice.  
  
“I wish our timing was better,” he tried to smile.  
  
“Me too,” she managed. “Chakotay, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…”  
  
“I know,” he murmured. “I’m just – I’d really like to hug you right now. Would that be okay?”  
  
She glanced down at herself, naked beneath the sheet. “Do you really have to ask?”  
  
“Yes,” he answered seriously.  
  
Her smile wobbled and warmed. “In that case, yes. I would love you to hug me.”  
  
So he reached for her, folding her in his arms and pressing his cheek to her hair, and gradually he felt her weight settling against him and the soft brush of her breath on his neck. He spread his hands across her back and she hummed quietly at the drifting of his fingertips along her spine.  
  
Soon, he began to press small kisses to her temple and cheekbone, and Kathryn’s breathing quickened as she shifted in his arms, pressing restlessly closer to him. The sheet caught between them slipped lower.  
  
“Chakotay,” she murmured.  
  
He shivered at the sensation of her lips moving against his throat. “Yes, Kathryn?”  
  
“Are we done talking?”  
  
Something in the timbre of her voice brought him to instant attention. He pulled back to study her and read the lowered eyelashes, the flushed and parted lips, felt his body respond.  
  
“What did you have in mind?” he rumbled back at her.  
  
In answer she pushed the sheet aside and lowered herself over him, the hard points of her nipples brushing his bare chest. Her teeth closed carefully around his earlobe and she pitched her voice low and husky.  
  
“I was thinking about making the most of the time we have.”  
  
His better nature raised a weak protest, but as she curled her tongue around his ear, any misgivings he might have voiced levelled off into a groan. Kathryn took advantage of his distraction to brace her hands on his shoulders, pushing him onto his back. He found his fingers clasping her hips, and she levered upright, her eyes glittering as she squeezed her thighs around him.  
  
He was fully erect now. Chakotay tightened his fingers on the curves of her ass, encouraging her, unable to stifle the low sounds of pleasure she was pulling from his throat as she began to move over him. He felt her shudder as the head of his penis rubbed over her clit, and then she was twisting her pelvis and he slid inside her in one long, slick, heated plunge.  
  
Her hips circled in deliberate, luscious thrusts, her body clenching and rippling around him. Chakotay stared up at her, watching her face as her pace increased and her breath began to hitch, watching her eyes darken and her tongue dart out to moisten her lips.  
  
He ground his hips up into her, one hand travelling up the length of her torso to cup her breast, revelling in the way she shivered and moaned.  
  
“You are so beautiful,” he rasped.  
  
Kathryn’s eyes softened and he reached up to pull her down onto him. Her hair fell around them as he crushed her to his chest, his lips seeking hers. He kissed her, tangling his hand in her hair as her motions slowed, grew sinuous. The change in angle, the friction, the lush drag of her tongue against his; it was all he could do to hold back the climax he knew was inevitable.  
  
But he wanted to get her there first.  
  
Gently, he urged her to release him, to move upward along his body until her thighs were spread either side of his face. She gripped the headboard and stared down at him, her expression anticipatory and ever so slightly tense, and he stroked a palm lightly over her hip, his thumbs rubbing the delicate, concave curves of her pelvis.  
  
 _Trust me_ , he tried to convey with his eyes, and she bit her lip and nodded, so he turned his head and nuzzled the silky skin inside her thigh. Kathryn made a soft, needy sound and widened her knees, and in gratitude and approval he dragged his thumb across her nub, watching her mouth drop open and her head fall back.  
  
“Fuck,” he groaned, “I want to taste you.”  
  
She moaned and tilted her hips, and he slid his fingers between her folds, his other hand flattening on her ass to bring her to his lips. At the first languid circle of his tongue on her clitoris he entered her with two careful fingers, and she whined and shuddered and pushed herself onto his face.  
  
He flattened his tongue on her, licking her deliberately, thoroughly, holding her steady with one hand on her hip as the other curled upward inside of her, rubbing the rippled patch of flesh that changed the pitch of her moans to short, gasping cries, until she half-sobbed a broken version of his name and crumpled over him, trembling and clenching around his fingers.  
  
He could have stayed there all night, drowning in her, moving his fingers and tongue ever so slightly to trigger the aftershocks, but she had other ideas. Heaving in a breath, she eased herself to one side of him, her mouth finding his for a deep and lazy kiss that left him licking her taste from her lips.  
  
Kathryn drew back, one hand flattening on his torso and snaking downward until it came in contact with his cock, so hard it throbbed almost painfully.  
  
“Kathryn,” he groaned as she wrapped her fingers around him.  
  
She shifted onto her knees, holding his gaze as she twisted her body to bend her face down to him, As Chakotay’s hand drifted along her spine to dip and clutch between her spread legs, she licked her lips deliberately.  
  
The sound he uttered was unintelligible, but she needed no help understanding it. She stretched her lips around his cock and sank down with purpose until her tongue was flattened along his length and he could feel her throat working, feel the vibrations as she hummed around him.  
  
For a moment he almost lost control. This was Kathryn, _Kathryn Janeway_ , naked in his bed with his fingers inside her and her mouth wrapped around his cock. His free hand curled convulsively into the sheet beside him, an aid to maintaining the presence of mind not to thrust into her throat and choke her, not to let go and flood her. Not to end it too soon.  
  
Then she began to move, sucking, tongue swirling, one hand slipping between his legs to cradle his balls, and Chakotay, losing the battle, gritted his teeth and begged, “Please, Kathryn, please come here. I need to be inside you.”  
  
He stroked the hair back from her face and she raised her head, gasping as he pulled out of her throat. Her lips were wet. She turned her cheek into his palm, her eyes heavy-lidded, and bit gently at the edge of his thumb.  
  
“Do you want to fuck me?” she whispered.  
  
Chakotay sucked in a breath. Cupping her face, tilting it toward him, he sat up until he could press his lips to hers. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers and said with quiet emphasis, “I want to make love with you.”  
  
He thought he saw her eyes fill again before she closed them and leaned in to kiss him, and he wondered briefly if she’d become used to her husband treating her without tenderness. The thought made his throat ache and he almost stopped her, afraid that he’d misread her needs tonight. What if she hadn’t been seeking solace, but a friend?  
  
But she broke the kiss only to murmur, “I want that, too,” and then she shifted under him and pulled him to cover her, wrapping her arms and legs around him and urging him to enter her, and it was so easy and so perfect and so right, and he lost himself inside her, willingly giving her whatever tiny part of his soul she hadn’t owned before.  
  
Afterward, she turned over in his arms and he wrapped himself around her and traced the line of her arm and waist and hip with the tips of his fingers. Her breathing evened out and her lashes fluttered closed, but Chakotay stayed awake, watching her sleep.  
  
And for a few hours’ worth of moments, everything was perfect.


	12. Dirty Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm ba-ack! If you need a quick catch-up on the story so far, [this post (prologue to chapter 9)](https://mia-cooper.tumblr.com/post/178261253078/desperate-measures-recap) and [this post (chapter 10)](https://mia-cooper.tumblr.com/post/178331769718/desperate-measures-ch-10) should help.
> 
> Now that people are moving around a bit, you might also want to keep [this map](http://www.sttff.net/AST_MAP.html) handy as a reference guide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge, huge thanks to Helen8462 and LittleObsessions for smashing through the world's quickest beta on this chapter.

Do you remember the time we...  
And all the times we...  
And should have...  
And were going to...  
I know  
And I know you remember  
\- Nine Inch Nails, _Zero Sum_  


* * *

 

 ** _Chapter Eleven: Dirty Work_**  
_April, 2379_  
  
  
She wasn’t sure what woke her: the displacement of air as he moved quietly about the room, or the absence of his warmth in the bed beside her. Kathryn blinked her eyes open and turned her head. Chakotay was bent over his tote bag, stuffing in the jeans and t-shirt he’d been wearing the night before.  
  
“You’re leaving.”  
  
He straightened at the husky ache in her voice, turning to look at her. Kathryn pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, clutching the sheet around her body, protectively, almost defensively.  
  
“I have to,” he answered with a regretful half-smile. “I'm sorry.”  
  
She pushed sleep-tousled hair out of her eyes and tried not to let reproach colour her voice. “Where are you going?”  
  
Chakotay lowered himself to the edge of the bed. “I can't tell you, Kathryn. You know I can't.”  
  
She reached for his hand, folding her fingers around and into his. He shifted towards her on the bed and she pushed the sheet aside, crawling into his open arms, relishing the steady beat of his heart where her cheek was pressed to it and the oh-so-tender slide of his palm down the bare length of her spine.  
  
“I don’t want to leave you,” he mumbled.  
  
She turned her face against his throat and felt his pulse pick up. “Do you have to go right away?”  
  
“In a minute,” he said, and when she took that as encouragement to take his hands and slide them onto her breasts, he groaned softly and held her still. “Kathryn, we can’t do this now.”  
  
“Why not?” she nuzzled into his neck.  
  
He sucked in a breath and backed off, holding her gently away from him. “There’s something I need to give you.”  
  
She sat back on her heels, not missing the way his eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her. Chakotay dug into his pocket and held out his open palm. On it rested a data chip.  
  
“This is everything I’ve found out about Austin’s background,” he told her. “I need you to promise you’ll stay away from him. He’s dangerous, and when you’ve seen this you’ll understand why.”  
  
He picked up her hand and placed the chip in her palm, and reluctantly she closed her fingers around it.  
  
“Promise me,” he urged.  
  
Kathryn nodded, and Chakotay leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss so light its tenderness almost hurt.  
  
“I really have to go.”  
  
“Come back to me,” she whispered.  
  
He kissed her again, harder this time, his hands framing her face. But when she sighed and leaned into him and wound her fingers into his hair he pulled away, turning from the bed as though he didn’t trust himself not to stay. Then he shrugged on his overcoat, slung his tote bag over one shoulder, and left without looking back.  
  
Kathryn squeezed her eyes shut and turned to press her face into the pillow. There was an ache in her throat, and a tightness behind her eyes that warned of an impending migraine.  
  
It took several minutes to wrestle the threatening tears under control. After a while she turned over to stare up at the ceiling, letting her eyes blur out of focus to ease the throbbing pain in her temples.  
  
Just as her consciousness began to drift, she was startled by a sharp succession of taps on the door of the hotel room.  
  
_Who in the world?_ Head and heart pounding, Kathryn scrambled naked from the bed and cast around for something to cover herself. A dark, high-necked sweater lay crumpled on the floor. As she yanked it on, grateful it was several sizes too big, she felt her eyes start to water and she scrunched up her nose, trying to silence the sneezing fit she knew was coming.  
  
The knock came again, louder this time, and Kathryn bit her lip, uncertain what to do next. Her fingers tightened around the data chip tucked tightly in her palm.  
  
“Admiral,” she heard – a woman’s voice, low and urgent. “Admiral, please open the door.”  
  
_Tora Jens_ , she recognised, eyes widening. Tugging the sweater down almost to mid-thigh, she strode over to unlatch the door and had to step back quickly as Jens, wearing a voluminous woollen overcoat, pushed her way into the room.  
  
“Sorry,” the younger woman murmured, shutting the door behind her as she swept back the hood obscuring her face. “I couldn’t risk anyone seeing you here.”  
  
A volley of sneezes prevented Kathryn from challenging her immediately. Jens strode to the replicator and called up a hypospray, just as Chakotay had the previous night, before they –  
  
Kathryn cut off that train of thought with ruthless precision.  
  
“Do you mind telling me how, exactly, you knew I was here?” she demanded when she’d finally stopped sneezing, tilting her neck to allow Jens to apply the hypo.  
  
Jens hesitated, then pulled a tricorder from her coat pocket, showing Kathryn the screen on which a small red dot was blinking.  
  
“Is that –” Kathryn stared at her for a moment, then skirted the bed – averting her eyes from the rumpled sheets – and made her way over to the couch where she’d discarded her cloak the night before.  
  
Rummaging in the pocket, she pulled out her personal transport device, then glanced from it to Jens, who looked uncomfortable.  
  
“You put a _tracker_ on me?”  
  
“No …” Jens paused, “but I knew about it. I’m sorry, Admiral. I should have told you.”  
  
Kathryn’s teeth were clenched. “If it wasn’t you, who –” She stopped. “Kjogo.”  
  
Jens nodded. “Which is why we have to get you back to your hotel. Right now.”  
  
Kathryn frowned.  
  
“You’re scheduled for an interview at 0700,” Tora reminded her. “I’ve covered for you – as far as Admiral Kjogo knows you’ve been in your own room all night – but we’re running out of time.” She paused. “And I mean no offence, Admiral, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want to deal with the obvious questions.”  
  
In case her meaning wasn’t clear enough, the lieutenant’s gaze panned from Kathryn’s bare legs and tangled hair to the bed, which had clearly been occupied by more than one person.  
  
_I will not blush_ , Kathryn ordered herself, favouring her aide with a frosty glare instead.  
  
“Please, Admiral, activate your transporter,” Jens urged, and when Kathryn still hesitated, “Ma’am, it’s past 0600. Go. I’ll take care of things here.”  
  
“This conversation isn’t over,” Kathryn told her, voice like flint, and Tora Jens dipped her head in acknowledgement.  
  
With the data chip hidden in one hand, she thumbed the button on the transport device and materialised moments later in her ridiculously opulent hotel suite.  
  
She glanced around at the spacious room, the pristine bed, the uniform lying pressed and ready on the coverlet. Inoffensive music played at low volume, the drapes were opened to the optimum width to allow a glimpse of the city waking up, and a silver-domed breakfast tray waited on the table by the window.  
  
If she’d ever imagined the morning after her first night with Chakotay – and she couldn’t deny that she had – she hadn’t pictured it like this.  
  
She thought about waking up in that other, smaller, dingier room less than half an hour ago. How for a few blissful moments she’d thought she wasn’t alone, that she would turn over in that bed and, blinking, see him smiling down at her. How he’d wrap her in his arms and kiss her, and they would move together lazily, revelling in the first of a lifetime of mornings to come.  
  
_One night_ , she thought bitterly. _One single, perfect night. Is that all we get?_  
  
She tossed the data chip onto the bureau, stripped off the sweater – _Chakotay’s sweater_ , she recognised with a pang she forced herself to swallow – and stepped under the shower spray, trying to ignore the way her skin still tingled in all the places he’d touched it.  
  
Towelling dry, Kathryn dressed in her uniform, pinned up her hair and concealed the dark circles under her eyes with makeup. She ignored the food waiting on the breakfast tray in favour of pouring a tall cup from the silver coffeepot and reviewing her schedule on the padd someone – Jens, she assumed – had thoughtfully left for her.  
  
The day ahead promised to be mind-numbing: after gritting her teeth through her upcoming interview with the Midrian news service, she was scheduled for a meeting with Sina, the premier of Regulus; Kathryn groaned, remembering his unwelcome interest in her the last time they’d met. She’d probably be sneezing and brushing cat fur off her uniform all day. The hours after lunch would be occupied with providing decoration while President Zife met with Chancellor Martok, and in the evening she would attend yet another formal function at which she’d be expected to mingle and smile and flirt with anyone the president ordered her to charm.  
  
She rubbed her temple against the worsening headache. Somehow, after last night, her life as it was seemed even less bearable. In a few days she’d be returning to Earth, to Kjogo and her incessant and chafing demands. To a husband she mistrusted and – she bit her lip, acknowledging the truth of it – feared.  
  
Kathryn sat down hard on the bed.  
  
What the hell had she been thinking – that Chakotay would sweep her into his arms and whisk her away from her sham of a life? She clenched her hands into fists, disgusted. She’d never relied on a man to solve her problems before. She’d gotten herself into this mess, and she was the only one who could get herself out of it.  
  
She would start with her farce of a marriage. As soon as she got home, she’d kick Ryan out and file for divorce. Then she’d go to Admiral Kjogo and demand an assignment in which she could be useful. And then she’d take some leave, see her family, catch up with the _Voyager_ crew…  
  
And she’d find Chakotay and finally, honestly, tell him how she felt about him.  
  
_I’m on a mission … It’s classified._  
  
She frowned.  
  
_Are you in danger?_  
  
_No more than usual._  
  
She’d known he was lying.  
  
“Oh, Chakotay,” she muttered. “What are you up to?”

 

* * *

  
  
Chakotay collapsed into the co-pilot’s seat and Kash turned to scrutinise him, her amber eyes glittering with what Chakotay had come to recognise as amusement.  
  
“Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t we?” She tapped the key sequence to close the shuttle’s hatch. “So, who was she?”  
  
“What?” he couldn’t quite muster up a glare.  
  
“I can smell her on you,” Kash smirked, then held up a hand as Chakotay opened his mouth. “No judgement, Captain. I’m pleased you enjoyed yourself, but playtime is over now.”  
  
He grunted in answer. “Where are we headed?”  
  
“Seems you made an impression on Premier Sina. He wants me to take you to home base.”  
  
“Which is where?”  
  
Kash swivelled back to the helm. “Hidden in plain sight, my friend. Have you heard of the Celendi Nebula?”  
  
Chakotay kept his face impassive. “Isn’t that on an Orion-controlled trade route?”  
  
“They’d like to think so.” Kash looked smug. “The Orion Syndicate isn’t the fearsome thing it used to be. We have insiders throughout their organisation, and it’s not the only so-called superpower Entera controls.”  
  
Chakotay had learned it was more productive to let Kash talk, so instead of questioning her he merely raised an eyebrow.  
  
“The Ferengi are easy – they’re motivated purely by profit, and their current Grand Nagus is an idiot. The Cardassians are desperate. Klingons, well, let’s just say not all of them define honour in the same way, and the Romulans are happy to trade goods and information with us as long as they think they’re getting the better deal. As for your Federation,” she snorted, “well, you’re living proof that those high-minded ideals aren’t worth the data chips they’re stored on.”  
  
Chakotay shrugged. “I’m not exactly a model citizen of the Federation. I think you’ll find those high-minded ideals aren’t as flimsy as all that. There are plenty of people I know who still believe in seeking knowledge for its own sake, not for power.” He allowed a note of derision to creep into his voice.  
  
Kash threw back her head and laughed. “Lucky for us, Captain, those in the Federation who do hold the power are generally not so naïve.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Politicians, Starfleet brass, successful businessmen… Ambition doesn’t lend itself to those finer feelings the average Federation star-gazer holds so dear.” Kash grinned at him. “You have no idea who’s on our side, Captain. But if you prove yourself to us, you might just find out.”  
  
“Then you’d better let me prove I’m loyal to Entera, because I have no intention of wasting my time.”  
  
“Understood,” Kash answered in amusement, and the shuttle lifted off.  
  
Chakotay monitored atmospheric pressure and impulse engines until they’d cleared the Ajilon system and gone to warp, then yawned showily and announced his intention to take a nap. Closing his eyes and tilting his seat back, he pretended to doze while he took silent stock of the things he’d learned.  
  
Premier Sina of Regulus was a key player in the Entera Coalition.  
  
Entera had an untold number of spies within Starfleet, including one unnamed officer stationed on patrol in the Borderlands whose loyalties were questionable.  
  
The Coalition’s reach extended into the upper echelons of Federation politics.  
  
Kathryn Janeway made a sound that curled his toes when she climaxed.  
  
Chakotay shifted in his seat. Fascinating as it was, he didn’t need to review _that_ kind of discovery right now. He tried to banish the memory of her long pale throat, her breasts cupped in his hands, her husky gasps and the way she squeezed around him as he pushed into her, but it was no use. Eight years of fantasies had been brought to fruition in the space of a few short hours, and neither his mind nor his body were about to let him ignore that.  
  
For a few moments he let himself remember her soft, even breaths as she slept in his arms. It had been nearly impossible to leave the warmth of her body, to slip out of the bed and gaze at her while he dressed. She’d shifted onto her stomach and the sheet had slipped down to her hips. In the dim light filtering through the curtains his gaze had traced the pale lines of her torso, her outflung arm, the curve of her breast against the sheet.  
  
And then she’d woken, naked and flushed, hair tangled, and her eyes had begged him to stay, and he’d cursed the irony of his duty to Starfleet, instead of hers, pushing them apart.  


* * *

  
  
Her interview with the Midrian news service was, as Kathryn had predicted, little more than a photo opportunity. Tora Jens arrived halfway through, dressed in her uniform; she sent Kathryn a subtle nod, then absented herself until the allotted time for the interview had passed but the reporter was still lingering.  
  
“I’m sorry, but Admiral Janeway is on a tight schedule today,” Jens was saying as she politely hustled the journalist from the room. “I’m sure you understand…”  
  
Alone, Kathryn wandered over to press her aching forehead to the windowpane, shoulders slumped as she stared down at the street below. She let her eyes drift closed, but behind them appeared an image of Chakotay’s expression, intense and soft and completely focused on her as he moved inside her, and she groaned and forced her eyes open again.  
  
Her gaze swept over to the bureau and landed on the data chip Chakotay had given her.  
  
Kathryn checked her chrono; still fifteen minutes until her meeting with Premier Sina. Jens would be gone for at least five while she escorted the interviewer out, she calculated. She locked the door anyway, in case of Jens’ early return, then quickly slotted the data chip into her personal computer.  
  
The file Chakotay had prepared was short. Kathryn scrolled through the information she had already discovered – Ryan’s unknown parentage and the likelihood that his mother had been Deltan, as well as his short-lived marriage – and then she paused.  
  
Ryan’s ex-wife, Maja Hansen, was related to Seven of Nine. That was interesting, if ultimately unimportant.  
  
What she read next almost made her swear aloud.  
  
Maja Hansen was permanently confined to a psychiatric institution. And there were rumours that she had given birth to a child – Ryan’s child – twenty-five years ago.  
  
Kathryn stared unseeingly into the middle distance. Was it true? And if so, what had happened to the child?  
  
Did Ryan know?  
  
For the second time that morning, Kathryn was startled by a knock on the door of her hotel room.  
  
“Admiral?” Tora Jens called. “May I come in?”  
  
Quickly, Kathryn shut down the file and switched off her computer, then unlocked the door. “Lieutenant,” she said frostily, remembering she was irritated with her aide, “you and I need to talk.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” Jens answered. “But your meeting with Premier Sina is in five minutes. May we save the disciplinary discussion until afterward?”  
  
_Is she being a smartass?_ Kathryn narrowed her eyes, but Tora’s smooth expression gave nothing away. “Fine,” she said evenly. “Report to my suite when I’ve returned from lunch. We’ll address your _discipline_ before you brief me on this afternoon’s negotiations.”  
  
Moments later, Kathryn entered the opulent drawing room where Jens had arranged her meeting with Sina and immediately felt her eyes begin to water. The Caitian stood to offer his arm, his two-metre tail winding sinuously around Kathryn’s waist as he led her to a seat at the couch. Before she dissolved into a volley of sneezes, her aide was there with a hypospray that she discreetly applied to Kathryn’s neck.  
  
The meeting went on longer than she’d expected and she had to unwind Sina’s tail from various parts of her body more than once. But when he casually inquired about her absent husband and she realised that the premier knew Ryan personally, she invited him to continue their conversation over lunch.  
  
She made sure Sina was well into his second glass of Ajilon’s finest vintage before asking when he and Ryan had met.  
  
“The same time I met you, Admiral – a few months ago at Starfleet Headquarters.” Sina laid a clawed hand on hers. “Your husband was negotiating for access rights to a shipping route that falls under Regulan administration.”  
  
“Oh?” She kept her expression politely distant. “You’ll have to forgive me, Premier – I wasn’t aware that Federation citizens were required to purchase access to areas of space regulated by Federation member worlds. Clearly my husband is the one with the head for business, not me.”  
  
“I find that hard to believe.” Sina’s eyes grew sharp. “My counterpart on Midrian tells me you drove a hard bargain with that trade treaty you negotiated.”  
  
Kathryn smiled sunnily. “Just following orders, Premier.”  
  
The Caitian gave her a flat-eyed look. “In any case, Admiral, you misunderstand me. No latinum exchanged hands. Your husband was merely making certain of the security of the Regulan trade route. We all know how troublesome the Orions can be.”  
  
“Security?” She widened her eyes at him. “Surely that isn’t a problem anymore, now that Starfleet has sent additional patrol vessels into the region.”  
  
“Yes, and I understand we have you to thank for that.” Sina raised his glass.  
  
_Me?_ she thought, dismayed. She’d objected when Ryan had tried to convince her, months earlier, to call for increased Starfleet presence in the Borderlands region, but it appeared she was being blamed – or, in Sina’s case, celebrated – for it anyway.  
  
She smiled disingenuously at Sina and steered the conversation onto safer topics; she’d have to puzzle this out later tonight, when she was alone.  
  
_Alone_. She tried to curb the bitter twist of her mouth. Strange how it smarted now, like a fresh wound, after a few blissful hours of believing she wasn’t alone anymore.  
  
The antihistamine hypospray was beginning to wear off by the time Sina pushed his empty plate away, and Kathryn was relieved to escape to her suite for a few minutes’ respite, almost as much as she was looking forward to tearing a few strips off her wayward executive aide. She deliberately remained on her feet, forcing Jens to stand at attention as Kathryn glared up at her.  
  
“I want an explanation,” she ordered when Jens’ impassive mask finally began to slip. “Why does Admiral Kjogo feel it necessary to control my life to such an extent that she ordered you to track my movements?”  
  
“I can’t speak for Admiral Kjogo’s motives, ma’am.” Jens lowered her gaze. “All I can tell you is that she’s not someone you want as an enemy.”  
  
“That much I figured out for myself,” Kathryn said tartly. “What I don’t understand is why _you_ still don’t seem to realise who you’re working for. I told you months ago that if you lied to me again, you’d no longer be in my employ. Didn’t I?”  
  
“Admiral –”  
  
“Pack your bags,” Kathryn said tersely. “I believe there’s a shuttle to Earth leaving tonight, and I want you on it.”  
  
“But, Admiral –”  
  
“Dismissed.”  
  
Tora Jens swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”  
  
“And Lieutenant?”  
  
Jens turned back from the door.  
  
“If I hear of any rumours regarding my whereabouts last night, I’ll know who started them. And my reaction won’t be pretty. Understood?”  
  
Jens met her gaze. “Your secrets are safe with me, Admiral.”  
  
“They’d better be,” Kathryn answered, turning away as her erstwhile aide left the room.  


* * *

  
  
“So this is home base?”  
  
Chakotay leaned over Kash’s shoulder at the helm, staring through the shuttle’s viewport at the multi-pronged space station constructed in the centre of the Celendi Nebula. Small vessels were docked at various ports; Chakotay recognised their designs – Midrian, Trialan, a Klingon escort vessel, even a Cardassian shuttle.  
  
He swore silently. How far did the influence of this coalition extend?  
  
“That’s B’Kor’s ship,” Kash pointed to the Klingon shuttle.  
  
“Martok’s second in command?”  
  
Kash smirked in answer.  
  
“And the Cardassian vessel?”  
  
“That belongs to Legate Sikola.”  
  
Sikola had been a high-ranking officer in the Cardassian military, who’d made herself visible promoting peace with the Federation after the end of the Dominion War. Chakotay hissed through his teeth. Kash hadn’t been exaggerating about Entera having friends in high places.  
  
“What are they doing here?”  
  
“Regrouping. Word is the Orions intend to launch an assault on our fleet. We’ll be coordinating the counter-attack from this base.”  
  
“We?”  
  
“Yes, Captain, that includes you.” Kash guided the shuttle toward a docking port. “That colleague of yours Premier Sina was referring to was supposed to be entrusted with keeping your ‘fleet friends out of our way. Since we can’t be sure he’s trustworthy, that task now falls to you.”  
  
The shuttle docked with a reverberating thump and Kash keyed open the doors.  
  
“After you,” she gestured with a mock bow.  
  
Chakotay stepped through the hatch and hung back, waiting for Kash to lead him through the shuttle bay and onto a utilitarian promenade that reminded him of Deep Space Nine. He felt eyes watching him; the back of his neck prickled, and he injected an extra swagger into his step. If he was being observed, he intended to look the part he was playing.  
  
Kash turned into an antechamber and came to a halt in front of a pair of imposing Klingons flanking a set of double doors. One of the guards stepped forward and passed a scanning wand over her. The other bared his teeth at Chakotay.  
  
“ _Ha' Sumbej_ , human,” he barked. “Come closer.”  
  
“I suggest you do as he says, Captain,” Kash told him over her shoulder. “Torag has a notoriously short temper, even for a Klingon.”  
  
Chakotay stepped forward and fixed his gaze on the doorway, forcing his muscles to remain loose. Torag scanned him and moved back with a grunt, looking disappointed at finding no contraband weapons.  
  
“ _juS SoH_ ,” he jerked his head. “You can pass.”  
  
“Thanks,” Chakotay muttered, and followed Kash through the doors and into a room that he could only describe as a war council chamber.  
  
An enormous polygonal table stood at the centre of the cavernous room, littered with communications equipment and holo-viewers, some of which were in use. Chakotay recognised a stellar map of the Borderlands displaying several blinking lights he guessed were Entera vessels, before the Yridian working that console glanced up, saw him looking and angled the screen away.  
  
A few seats along, a Midrian was holding a hushed subspace conversation with a Ferengi. From the brief snatches Chakotay heard, it seemed they were finalising an arms deal. He was about to sidle closer when Kash placed a hand on his arm, murmuring, “This way, Captain,” and he was forced to follow her, taking in as much of the activity in the room as he could without making his interest too obvious.  
  
On the far wall, in the direction they were headed, was a holographic display of the Orion sector, around which several people were gathered. They were mostly natives of the Borderlands planets, Chakotay noted, though there were also three Klingons, one of whom was Vice-Chancellor B’Kor. He assumed, from their professional appraisal as he and Kash approached, that the other two were bodyguards.  
  
A slender Cardassian in a tailored crimson suit detached herself from the far side of the group and strode toward them, hand held out in greeting.  
  
“Captain Chakotay, I presume.”  
  
Chakotay took her hand. “Legate Sikola.”  
  
The woman’s eye ridges curved upward in pleased amusement. “Either Kash has briefed you well, or you follow the news.”  
  
“Both,” acknowledged Chakotay.  
  
“I follow it, too,” Sikola informed him, slipping a hand through his elbow as she guided him around the table, “which is why I recommended we recruit you. Chakotay, Maquis renegade turned first officer of the intrepid ship _Voyager_ , lost on the other side of the galaxy for seven years, and brought home in spectacular fashion by her captain, Kathryn Janeway.” She smiled in a way that made Chakotay’s neck prickle. “To whom, it seems, you have less loyalty than even to Starfleet.”  
  
“I wouldn’t say that,” Chakotay responded evenly as Sikola brought them to a halt near another, much more discreet door set into the wall behind the table.  
  
“Wouldn’t you?” Sikola asked mildly. “And yet my sources tell me the two of you have barely been in contact since _Voyager_ returned over a year ago.”  
  
“Your sources?” Chakotay repeated, just barely managing to keep his tone polite.  
  
“Oh, don’t be offended, Captain.” Sikola’s smile widened. “I’m a former Obsidian Order operative. Who better for Entera to charge with investigating your suitability as a recruit?”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“Of course, I had the advantage of already being acquainted with you, Captain.” Sikola placed her hand on the access panel beside the door and after a soft beep, it slid open. “In a manner of speaking.”  
  
Chakotay followed her into a narrow corridor. “What manner would that be?”  
  
“I compiled your intelligence file for the Obsidian Order, prior to your disappearance in the Badlands, of course.”  
  
He raised his eyebrows. “My file?”  
  
“And I received reports from an operative we placed in your Maquis cell. I was her handler.”  
  
Chakotay’s step faltered; he recovered, but not quickly enough to evade Sikola’s notice.  
  
“My apologies, Captain,” the Cardassian said smoothly. “I didn’t mean to bring up unpleasant memories.”  
  
“ _Unpleasant_ doesn’t even begin to cover my memories of Seska, Legate Sikola.” He kept his voice low and dangerous and was satisfied at the slight widening of the Cardassian’s eyes.  
  
_Good_ , he thought, _let her see I have teeth_.  
  
“Of course,” he deliberately lightened his tone, “that was all a long time ago, and I’m not one to hold a grudge, especially when there’s nothing to be gained from it.”  
  
“A commendable attitude,” Sikola murmured, continuing along the corridor. “What is it you hope to gain by becoming a member of Entera, Captain?”  
  
He shrugged. “Profit. Power. What else?”  
  
“And your oath to Starfleet won’t interfere?”  
  
“Are you suggesting I should feel some kind of loyalty to Starfleet?” he asked, injecting scorn into his tone. “You are aware I’ve been a Federation outlaw, aren’t you? That I’ve killed Starfleet officers,” he paused, deliberately emphasising his next words, “and Cardassian soldiers alike?”  
  
“Oh, I’m aware, Captain.” Sikola stopped in front of another door. “Still, your intelligence profile did depict you as a man who would feel loyalty to a cause, if not a uniform.”  
  
“That was then,” he said, flat. “I’m older and wiser now. And loyalty can be so … adaptable, wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
Apparently satisfied, Sikola smiled and accessed the door panel. “I would,” she conceded. “And we’re not alone in that, Captain.”  
  
The door slid open and she ushered Chakotay into a spacious room, dimly lit by candles in wall sconces and decorated with surprising opulence in silks and velvets. It reminded Chakotay of the drawing room at the Paris hotel he’d taken Seven to, back when they were newly released from debriefings.  
  
A Coridanite man, seated on a plush, brocaded couch, glanced up from a padd. Chakotay swallowed in recognition, forcing himself to keep his expression impassive.  
  
“Captain Chakotay,” Sikola purred, “I’m sure you’re already acquainted with Starfleet’s liaison to President Zife’s office, Admiral Ube Mekas.”  
  
“Admiral,” Chakotay dipped his head.  
  
_How far up the chain of command does this conspiracy go?_ he wondered frantically. Nyla Kjogo’s boast about her _friends in high places_ hadn’t been false pride at all.  
  
A feminine figure moved out of the shadows, and Chakotay fought not to react. _Jonah Miles was right_ , he thought.  
  
“And this,” Sikola introduced, “is Senator Tal’aura of the Romulan Star Empire.”  
  
“Delighted to meet you, Captain,” said Tal’aura, her dark eyes assessing him. “I believe you’re going to be very useful to us.”


	13. Sub Rosa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the title, no ghosts were sexed in the making of this chapter.

There’s a heartbeat fallen forever  
You never believe me  
But I just want to know  
‘Cause I can’t let you go  
– Rüfüs du Sol, _Nocturnal_  


* * *

 

  
**_Chapter Twelve: Sub Rosa_**  
_April, 2379_  
  
  
Kathryn applied the hypospray to her neck and crawled onto her bed, resting the back of her hand over her eyes as she waited for the analgesic to work. Even with the curtains closed to keep out the harsh midday light, her head pounded sickly. She’d become so used to the constant, low-grade pain that it only became intolerable when it flared into a migraine.  
  
Once again, she promised herself she’d see a doctor – a proper one, not just the duty medic at HQ – when she returned home. If she was going to sort out the rest of her life, she’d better start with her health.  
  
For a moment, the thought of what awaited her on Earth seemed unbearable and she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to suppress the welling tears. _It’s going to be fine_ , she pep-talked herself fiercely. _I brought a ship home from the Delta quadrant in seven years. I can handle one tyrannical admiral and my sleazy, soon-to-be-ex-husband._  
  
But the dread she’d felt in the pit of her stomach since Ryan had assaulted her would not be reasoned with.  
  
Kathryn covered her face with her hands. It wasn’t the first time she’d survived such an attack. Ryan hadn’t even physically hurt her, unlike those other times. Why was she finding it so difficult to accept what he’d done?  
  
_Because I trusted him_ , she thought miserably. _I married him_.  
  
And now, because that trust had proven so misplaced, she couldn’t be sure if her instincts were still reliable.  
  
What if she was wrong to trust the other people in her life? Tora Jens had certainly turned out to be less than truthful.  
  
What if she was wrong about Chakotay?  
  
_That’s ridiculous_ , she reminded herself firmly. _Chakotay would never lie to me_.  
  
But he’d kept the truth from her before.  
  
Kathryn sat up, staring dully at her hands curled in her lap. The analgesic had allowed her headache to abate to a just-bearable degree, and it was time to go to work. Her agony, both physical and emotional, would have to wait.  
  
The afternoon’s peace talks between President Zife and Chancellor Martok proved an adequate distraction; the Klingon chancellor made no secret of his distaste for Zife’s political double-speak and his frequent impatient outbursts grew more colourful as the afternoon wore on. By the time Martok called a halt to the meeting and Kathryn escaped to her room to dress for dinner, her mood had lifted somewhat.  
  
It plummeted again at the sight of Tora Jens.  
  
“I believe I ordered you to return to Earth, Lieutenant.” Kathryn’s tone was the one she used to employ to make wayward ensigns, obstreperous aliens and even Tom Paris stand a little straighter. “What are you doing in my room?”  
  
Jens clasped her hands behind her back. “Admiral, please hear me out.”  
  
Kathryn gave her a short nod.  
  
“I should have told you about the tracking device,” Jens began, “but I couldn’t be sure of the extent Admiral Kjogo was observing you, or me for that matter. She may have planted other trackers on you, or even listening devices.”  
  
Kathryn shrugged off her jacket and tossed it into the refresher, ordering a cup of black coffee and turning back to her former aide. “You sound completely paranoid, Lieutenant,” she said flatly, sipping her espresso.  
  
“With good reason, ma’am,” Jens pointed out. “Admiral Kjogo gave me explicit instructions to watch you and report back to her on your movements, your conversations, how you spend the little leisure time she allows you, even what you wear. She has every intention of continuing to monitor and control you, for as long as you’re of use to her.”  
  
Slumping, Kathryn rubbed her temple, where her headache was returning in full force. “All right,” she admitted, “I can’t deny I have felt somewhat… constrained … since I began reporting to Admiral Kjogo. But that ends now, Lieutenant. When I return to Earth I intend to demand a reassignment.”  
  
Tora’s eyes widened. “Admiral, I can’t recommend strongly enough that you play along with her. She’s dangerous.”  
  
“So was the Delta quadrant,” Kathryn retorted. “And I survived that more or less intact.”  
  
“If you want to stay that way, you should listen to me,” Jens stressed.  
  
“You’re treading very close to the line, Lieutenant.” Kathryn tried to glare at the younger woman, but her head hurt so badly now that there was a blur before her eyes. Nausea welled in her throat.  
  
“Please,” Jens insisted. “Let me help you.”  
  
“No. This conversation is over. Dismi-” Kathryn broke off with a groan, doubling over as the migraine slammed into her, curdling her stomach and tunnelling her vision. Her almost-full cup fell from suddenly nerveless fingers, dark coffee soaking a stain into the white carpet.  
  
Tora was instantly at her side, a hand on her shoulder, easing her to the floor. Kathryn could hear her whispering soft nonsense words at the edge of her consciousness. The young woman’s hand moved up to the nape of Kathryn’s neck, fingers gently stroking her skin. She felt the pain begin to lessen, a blissful cool dampening the acid fire that had taken hold of her every nerve and bone and muscle. The nausea ebbed, her vision cleared. The headache receded.  
  
Kathryn straightened up and turned to stare at Tora Jens.  
  
“How did you do that?” she demanded softly. “My headache has almost completely gone.”  
  
An expression flitted across Tora’s beautiful face and was gone before Kathryn could identify it. “It’s an old Betazoid technique,” Jens answered smoothly. “I spent some time there when I was a teenager.”  
  
“I’ve never known a Betazoid who could cure a headache that way.” Kathryn narrowed her eyes, but Jens’ face remained smooth and serene.  
  
“Do you feel better now, Admiral?”  
  
“Yes.” Kathryn let Tora clasp her hand and help her to her feet. “But if you think this changes my mind about firing you –”  
  
“Admiral.” Jens’ voice took on that soothing quality again, and Kathryn found herself gazing into the younger woman’s blue eyes, curling her fingers around Jens’. “I really wish you’d reconsider.”  
  
“I suppose,” Kathryn found herself saying, her voice halting, “I could give you another chance.”  
  
Jens’ smile was brilliant. “Thank you, Admiral,” she murmured. “You won’t regret it.”  
  
Kathryn nodded.  
  
“You should dress for dinner,” Tora continued, still holding Kathryn’s gaze. “I’ll come back in time to escort you to the dining room.”  
  
“All right,” Kathryn mumbled.  
  
“Go now,” Jens said gently, patting her hand before she released it, and Kathryn turned obediently for the bathroom, shedding the pieces of her uniform as she went.  
  
Showered, refreshed and outfitted in a black wool dress she favoured for its modesty, she waited for Jens to arrive before they made their way down to the hotel bar. Kathryn surveyed the room. The Orion she’d overheard discussing Trans-Quadrant Express’s alleged expansion the night before was standing in the far corner observing the room. Kathryn sent Jens off to order champagne and wandered over in the Orion’s direction, offering him a smile as she took up position at his side.  
  
He eyed her with interest. “Admiral Janeway.”  
  
Kathryn extended a hand. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”  
  
“I very much doubt that.” The Orion raised her hand to his lips. “My name is Tered.”  
  
“Delighted to meet you.” She sipped her champagne. “How are you enjoying the conference, Mr Tered?”  
  
Tered’s smile twisted slightly. “I’m finding it educational.”  
  
“Oh? In what way?”  
  
“Tell me, Admiral,” the Orion leaned in conspiratorially, “are you hoping to gather some kind of information for Starfleet?”  
  
“I’m just making conversation.”  
  
“Ah.” He leaned back. “Then you’re here on your husband’s behalf.”  
  
Kathryn raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Mr Tered.”  
  
“Then I’ll be blunt. Your husband is treading on dangerous ground, Admiral, and my employers are becoming displeased. Tell Councillor Austin to look after his own empire and stay out of ours.”  
  
“His empire?” Her heart beat faster at the low menace in the Orion’s voice. “Mr Tered, my husband runs a small business delivering medical aid to people in need. I hardly think –”  
  
Tered placed a finger over her lips, silencing her. “Don’t be disingenuous, Admiral. It doesn’t suit you.” His hand dropped. “Advise him that we’re keeping a close eye on him. If he chooses to annoy us any further, we’ll take everything he has, including his profitable little investment on Trebus.”  
  
Her breath stuck in her lungs. “Trebus?”  
  
“It’s been a pleasure talking with you, Admiral,” the Orion said, and walked away without another word.  


* * *

  
  
“So this is Entera’s command centre.” Chakotay glanced around with studied ease at the richly decorated salon. “I have to confess, it’s not what I expected.”  
  
“Ube here sees no point in being uncomfortable while we plan for war.” Senator Tal’aura’s patrician features curved into a slight smile. “Please, sit down, Captain. We have a lot of information to brief you on.”  
  
“So it seems.” Chakotay settled onto the couch opposite Admiral Mekas, glancing from him to Tal’aura to Sikola, eyebrows raised. “War?”  
  
Sikola lifted one shoulder. “As I said, Captain, we believe the Orions are arming for conflict. We want to be ready.”  
  
“How can I help?”  
  
Tal’aura leaned forward, pouring out four cups of tea from the elegant pot on the low table. “You’re aware of the increased Starfleet presence around the Borderlands trade routes, of course?” she queried, and at Chakotay’s nod, “As you’ve already been informed, we have a number of operatives and allies within the Starfleet ranks. Some of those are posted on the Borderlands patrol vessels.”  
  
“One of whom is the agent you want me to vet for loyalty,” Chakotay confirmed.  
  
“Yes. He’s the captain of the USS _Zapata_ , stationed on patrol near the Briar Patch, as you Federations so quaintly call it. When we’re finished here, Kash will escort you to meet him.”  
  
Chakotay nodded. “Tell me more about the Orions,” he requested. “What makes you so sure they’re planning an armed conflict?”  
  
Mekas spoke up. “The number of Orion vessels traversing this sector has more than doubled in recent weeks. We’ve also detected a vast increase in the volume of armaments at two of the bases the Orions don’t think we know about.” He spooned sugar into his tea, stirred and tapped the spoon ringingly on the delicate rim of the cup. “Our intel suggests they’ll make their initial assault within the month. We want to ensure we’re more than ready to retaliate in force.”  
  
Chakotay’s heart was thumping. “Where are they getting the weaponry from?”  
  
Tal’aura made a disapproving face. “Largely, from my government, Captain.”  
  
“From the Romulan praetor?” Chakotay turned to stare at her. “Then you’re a …” he fumbled for the right word.  
  
“Traitor?” Tal’aura suggested, eyebrow raised.  
  
“Dissident,” he compromised.  
  
“Oh, well done, Captain,” murmured Sikola.  
  
Tal’aura ignored her. “I’m not alone in my … reactionary politics,” she offered. “A number of senators and high-ranking Tal Shiar officials are displeased with the current praetor. Do not be surprised if a new one is installed in short order.”  
  
“You have someone in mind?” Chakotay croaked. He could barely keep up with this conversation.  
  
“You won’t have heard of him – he’s Reman. Never mind, Captain, this isn’t important to the matter at hand. Let’s get back to your mission, shall we?”  
  
“Which is…?”  
  
“You’re going to ensure Starfleet Intelligence stays out of our way while we prepare for the Orion assault. Our preference would be to avoid war entirely – despite the Ferengi motto, it’s bad for business – but it may be inevitable. If so, we don’t intend to be crippled by Starfleet interference.”  
  
Mekas leaned forward. “Leave the politics to me, Captain,” he advised. “Your job is to take care of our back yard. Find out if the captain of the _Zapata_ is playing both sides, sniff out any other traitors among our ranks, pass along any intel you hear from any source – Starfleet included – and keep Owen Paris off our trail.”  
  
“Do you think you can manage that, Captain?” inquired Sikola.  
  
Chakotay met her eyes, keeping his own hard and impenetrable. “I don’t doubt it, Legate.”  
  
Sikola smiled. “In that case, welcome to Entera.”  


* * *

  
  
Kathryn’s face hurt from holding her photogenic smile, her stilettos were murder on her feet, she felt bilious from swallowing an evening’s worth of backhanded compliments along with the Ajilon cuisine, and her headache had returned with a vengeance. At the first opportunity, she’d slipped away from the ballroom and all but ran to the turbolift that whisked her up to her suite.  
  
She’d kicked off her heels with a groan of relief before the door even finished closing behind her. Stripping off the black wool dress – so much for modest; it had evidently been figure-hugging enough to attract the interest, and the hands, of more than one diplomat – she pulled on her oldest, most comfortable pair of jeans and – after a brief hesitation – picked up Chakotay’s sweater, which was still lying on the bed from this morning’s hasty escape.  
  
_God, was that only this morning?_ she mused, tugging the sweater over her head.  
  
Immediately, she began to sneeze.  
  
_The sweater_ , she realised. _I’m allergic to the sweater_.  
  
She yanked it off, eyes watering, and stumbled to the replicator for a hypospray. As soon as the antihistamine began to clear her system, she peered at the sweater.  
  
There were several long, gingery-white hairs tucked into the weave. Hairs she recognised.  
  
“It’s not the sweater,” she whispered aloud as several mental jigsaw pieces slotted into place. “It’s _Sina_.”  
  
Chakotay had, at some point in the past twenty-four hours, been close enough to Premier Sina of Regulus to pick up the Caitian’s shedding fur on his clothing.  
  
Sina knew things about Ryan’s business that Kathryn didn’t know.  
  
Ryan was involved in something the Orions were displeased about. Something to do with Starfleet’s increased presence in the Borderlands. And something to do with Trebus.  
  
Chakotay was investigating some kind of conspiracy.  
  
Sina was involved in it, Kathryn realised. And so was Ryan.  
  
She tossed the sweater into the refresher, pressed the control that would sonic-clean it of sneeze-inducing fur and pulled it on again. Then she sat at her personal console and ordered, “Computer, open a channel to Admiral Owen Paris at Starfleet Intelligence.”  
  
~Katie, this is a nice surprise. How’s Ajilon? How’s the conference?~  
  
“Ajilon is fine. The conference is as tedious as I’d expected. Owen, I’m sorry to launch straight into it, but I was wondering if you could tell me where Chakotay is at the moment.”  
  
Paris’ eyes narrowed: a warning, she recognised. ~I’m afraid I can’t divulge that information, Admiral. Why do you ask?~  
  
She debated quickly and opted for discretion. “I have … reason to be concerned about him.”  
  
~He’s a big boy, Kathryn. He can take care of himself.~ Paris stared directly at her through the screen. ~Julia and I are looking forward to seeing you. Dinner at ours the night you get back, isn’t it? I hope you won’t be too tired from travelling.~  
  
They’d made no such arrangement, but Kathryn had never been slow on the uptake. “Not at all. I’m looking forward to it too, Owen. See you then.”  
  
He smiled approvingly. ~Enjoy the conference. And keep your ears open, eh? It might be tedious, but you’re shaping the future of the Federation out there. Paris out.~  
  
Kathryn sat back, frowning. _Shaping the future of the Federation?_ He’d sounded just like Ryan.  
  
Ryan, who’d lied about who he was. Who had used his association with her to promote his own agenda and secure election to the Federation Council. Whose courier company, she’d intuited, was involved in far less noble business than errands of mercy.  
  
There was something seriously shady going on here, and that short conversation with Owen Paris had told her that both he and Chakotay were aware of it and somehow involved.  
  
Kathryn ordered herself a very large whiskey from the replicator, took it over to the window seat where she had a spectacular view of Ajilon City below, and sat down to think.  


* * *

  
  
~Chakotay. Good to hear from you.~  
  
“Admiral,” Chakotay responded. “I’ll file an official report in due course, but I needed to pass on some intel immediately. I’ve encrypted this transmission and activated a dispersal field. We should have about two minutes.”  
  
Owen Paris tapped the console at his end. ~Secured here too. Go ahead, Captain.~  
  
Chakotay launched straight into it. “I’ve breached Entera’s inner circle. Among others, it consists of Premier Sina of Regulus, Vice-Chancellor B’Kor of Qo’noS, Legate Sikola of Cardassia, Fleet Admiral Ube Mekas and Senator Tal’aura of Romulus, who hinted that there’s a Reman involved who also intends to make a play for the praetorship. You might want to look into it.”  
  
Paris had grown more ashen with each name Chakotay recited. ~You’re absolutely certain of this?~  
  
“I met them all personally.”  
  
~It’s even worse than I feared,~ Paris muttered. ~Are they still suspicious of you?~  
  
“Suspicion is a way of life for these people,” answered Chakotay. “But if you’re asking whether they’re convinced that I’ve switched loyalties, I think so. They’re sending me to the Briar Patch to assess a Starfleet captain who may have double-crossed them. Kash is picking me up in half an hour.”  
  
Owen nodded. ~They’ll be expecting you to feed me sanitised information.~  
  
“And they’ll want me to give them something good,” Chakotay countered. “Something they can verify. If you can prepare for that, Admiral, I’d appreciate it.”  
  
~Use this frequency only in emergencies from now on,~ Paris instructed. ~You can’t risk it otherwise.~  
  
“Understood.” A light flashed on his console. “We’re out of time, Admiral.”  
  
~I’ll expect your official transmission soon. Oh, and Captain?~  
  
“Yes?”  
  
~When this is all over, give Katie Janeway a call. I doubt you’ll regret it.~  
  
“I intend to,” Chakotay answered softly, and cut the connection.  
  
He debated contacting Jonah Miles, but decided he’d pushed his luck too far to risk another covert transmission. Section 31 would have to wait until he reached the Briar Patch. And besides, there was a certain satisfaction in keeping Paris informed ahead of the shadow operative. Although Miles would make him pay for it later, he was sure.  
  
There was one person he wished he didn’t have to keep any secrets from, Chakotay contemplated later on in the shuttle, as he relieved Kash from piloting so she could catch a few hours’ sleep. He sighed, shifting in his chair. When this was all over – if he survived – he had every intention of telling Kathryn everything. About the fracture in their friendship that had led him to Seven, his regret and loneliness and the bad decisions he’d made; about his mission; but mostly that he loved her, and that he couldn’t see that ever changing.  
  
If only he could have been honest with her last night on Ajilon. If only duty hadn't prevented him from telling her everything. From asking her if there was the slightest chance she felt the same way –  
  
_Idiot_ , he scowled, reminding himself that duty wasn’t their only obstacle. There was also the small matter of her husband.  
  
Austin. He almost groaned aloud. Had Kathryn read the file he’d given her? She’d already told him she intended to leave Ryan, but what if she changed her mind? What if Austin changed it for her?  
  
He was dangerous, and even the data Chakotay had given Kathryn didn’t tell her the half of it, but he couldn’t have told her he suspected Austin was a player in Entera. That, along with the nature of his mission, was strictly classified.  
  
Then there was his sister and her family, living on Trebus where, he suspected, the discovery of the dilithium mine was about to change his tribespeople’s lives for the worse again. And Sekaya wouldn’t stay out of the conflict for long, no matter how dangerous.  
  
It wasn’t the first time Chakotay had found himself keeping secrets from the people he cared about – not to protect them from the truth, but because his duty or his mission required it. But, he decided, it was going to be the last. If he made it out of this alive, he was done.  
  
He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he hoped he’d get the chance to figure it out.  
  
The shuttle arrived in the Obruli system, just shy of the Briar Patch, early in the morning as Kash emerged bleary-eyed and tousle-headed into the cockpit. “Thanks for taking over,” she addressed Chakotay, her jaw cracking in a yawn. “That green-skinned dancer robbed me of more sleep than latinum.”  
  
“So what’s the plan?” Chakotay asked.  
  
“We dock at the main shuttleport on Obruli. Our contact will meet us in a storage bay on level three. We’ll have a few hours before the _Zapata_ crew finishes their shore leave. Make the most of them, Captain.”  
  
“Right. Take over for docking, will you? I need a sonic shower.”  
  
“You got it.”  
  
He showered quickly, contemplated wearing his uniform and decided against it; there would be other ‘fleeters around and the less attention he drew, the better. The battered leather jacket, jeans and boots he pulled out of his tote bag smelled decent enough to tide him over until he could find a refresher. From the gleam in Kash’s eye and the once-over she gave him as he re-emerged into the cockpit, he figured he looked presentable.  
  
The shuttle glided into the docking port and Kash shut down the engines, announcing unnecessarily, “We’re here.”  
  
Obruli was a binary system and the fourth planet, where they’d landed, was dry, hot and prone to dust storms, one of which was kicking up as Chakotay and Kash stepped out of the shuttle. An automated greeter ushered them rapidly inside the main structure where the air was somewhat fresher. Chakotay glanced around; there were dozens of Starfleet crewmen here, mingling with local species and the occasional Ferengi or Orion; not unexpected on a trading world, particularly one that had a reputation for being slightly less than squeaky clean.  
  
Level three was far less crowded, he was relieved to note. “This way,” Kash gestured, and he followed her to a nondescript door set into a bulkhead. “The storage hold is through there.”  
  
He pushed open the door and stepped into a sparsely-packed, utilitarian space. Standing straight and tall by the cargo doors, his hands clasped behind his back, was a man in Starfleet uniform. A very familiar man.  
  
Chakotay barely stopped himself from swearing aloud.  
  
“Tuvok,” he demanded, “what the hell are you doing here?”


	14. Deeper Water

I will try to let you go  
if we're getting in too deep  
And I will do my best to go  
If we get in too deep  
Lost Frequencies, _In Too Deep_  
  


* * *

  
**_Chapter Thirteen: Deeper Water_**  
_April, 2379_  
  
  
“Tuvok, what the hell are you doing here?”  
  
The Vulcan in command red stepped down from the raised cargo platform. “Captain Chakotay.”  
  
Tuvok appeared as impassive as any Vulcan, but thanks to his years of working with him, Chakotay was able to pick up on the slight hint of warning in his eyes. He reined himself in quickly.  
  
A glance behind told him that Kash was watching them closely. There had to be a way to play this that would allay her suspicions … He decided to brazen it out.  
  
Stepping up close to Tuvok, squaring his shoulders, he injected derision into his tone. “And which idiot gave _you_ a captaincy?”  
  
Tuvok’s infinitesimally lifted eyebrow conveyed approval of Chakotay’s tactic. “My promotion was awarded by Admiral Shanthi, whom I would venture to suggest is not an idiot.”  
  
“That’s debatable,” Chakotay snorted.  
  
Kash moved in closer. “Are we having a problem here, gentlemen?”  
  
Chakotay rounded on her. “Why didn’t you tell me your contact was this … this Vulcan _petaQ_?”  
  
“Because I wanted to witness your reaction to seeing him,” the Trialan purred, amber eyes glinting. She grasped Chakotay’s elbow and pulled him far enough away that even superior Vulcan hearing couldn’t detect her next words. “We could hardly send you to assess the trustworthiness of an operative you’re personally disposed to trust, could we, Captain? And the two of you did serve together for quite some time.”  
  
Chakotay set his teeth. “Are you ever going to stop testing me?”  
  
“You’ve passed all the tests I have for you. For now.” She patted his shoulder. “I’ll leave the two of you to get reacquainted. Report to the shuttle in two hours. We’ll need to brief Mekas on your initial evaluation of Captain Tuvok here.”  
  
Chakotay watched her sashay out of the storage bay.  
  
He strode back to Tuvok, intending to demand answers, but the Vulcan’s brief shake of the head warned him to keep up his act and he changed tack quickly.  
  
“Where’s the bar?” he growled. “I’m going to need a drink for this.”

 

* * *

  
  
“Admiral!” Tom Paris couldn’t stop the wide smile from spreading across his face at the sight of his former commanding officer. “I couldn’t believe it when Dad told me you were coming for dinner.”  
  
“Lieutenant Commander Paris,” Janeway responded. There appeared to be tears in her eyes, but the corner of her mouth quirked upward in its familiar way. “I don’t suppose you brought your family with you?”  
  
“B’Elanna and Miral are inside, and dying to see you.” He shook his head, grinning at her. “It’s so good to see you.”  
  
“You too, Tom.”  
  
There was an awkward moment when he bent toward her just as she raised her hand to clasp his bicep, and he stepped back a fraction, and then Janeway gave a genuine laugh and moved in to hug him.  
  
Her embrace was strong and fervent, and she seemed unwilling to end it. Tom suspected she didn’t get to hug people who cared about her very often.  
  
Speaking of which… “Where’s your husband?” he asked. “I was hoping to meet the man who captured the heart of the fearless captain of _Voyager_.”  
  
Janeway’s answering laugh was a little late and a little forced. “Ryan had another engagement tonight. I’m afraid it’s just me.”  
  
“All the better,” Tom answered smoothly, taking in her sudden pallor and the way her mouth had drooped at the corners. “We get you all to ourselves. Come inside and I’ll fix you a stardrifter. Harry acquired some from a Ferengi whose uncle runs the bar on Deep Space Nine, and he tells me it’s even more potent than Romulan ale.”  
  
“That sounds terrifying,” she replied drily. “I’d love one, thank you.”  
  
“This way.” Tom led her along the corridor to the drawing room, keeping up the kind of banter that he, and he suspected Janeway, could manage with ease while engaging most of his attention elsewhere. Right now, he was devoting that attention to wondering what kind of trouble he’d detected in Janeway’s newlywed paradise.  
  
“Cap- Admiral!” B'Elanna Torres leapt up from kneeling on the floor with her small daughter as Tom led Janeway into the room. Unlike her husband, she showed no restraint in flinging her arms around her erstwhile captain.  
  
“Oh, B'Elanna,” Janeway said softly, returning the embrace just as fiercely. “I’ve missed you so much.”  
  
As soon as they’d separated, Janeway stooped to introduce herself to Miral, and once she had passed the little girl’s inspection, straightened up again to greet Owen and Julia Paris. Tom brought her a lurid green drink which she placed discreetly on a table, untouched, as she tried to answer the questions B'Elanna peppered her with: what was she working on? Had she been well? How was married life?  
  
Tom noticed that Janeway’s shoulders grew more rigid and tense with each question, and laid a quelling hand on his wife’s arm. “I think the admiral wanted to have a word with Dad,” he reminded her.  
  
B'Elanna glanced at him, read his expression and halted her flow of questions immediately.  
  
“It’s a gorgeous evening,” Julia cut in smoothly. “Let’s take Miral outside for a while and leave the brass to catch up.”  
  
Tom watched Janeway exchange a brief glance with his father and stand, flashing Julia a quick, grateful smile as the two admirals disappeared in the direction of Owen’s study.  
  
“Wish I was a fly on that wall,” he muttered.  
  
“No, you don’t,” his mother responded tartly. “Be grateful for the burden of knowledge you don’t have to bear.”  
  
“Wow, Mom, so profound,” Tom teased, bending to hoist Miral into his arms and follow Julia and B'Elanna out into the courtyard.  
  
But despite his mother’s warning, he couldn’t help wondering what secrets his father and his former captain were discussing; or why Janeway had looked as tired and stressed out as she had on their worst days in the Delta quadrant; or why she’d apparently come directly from the shuttleport to the Paris house, without even stopping at home to change out of her uniform or greet her husband.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Sit down, Kathryn.”  
  
“I’d rather stand, thank you, Admiral,” she replied immediately.  
  
Paris turned shrewd eyes on her. “By my reckoning you’ve been travelling for two days, haven’t slept for most of it, have a headache so bad it’s making you nauseous, and if you don’t sit down you’re likely to pass out, so, Kathryn, _sit down_. That’s an order.”  
  
Kathryn felt a faint smile cross her face. “Aye, sir,” she answered, and sank gratefully into the chair Owen indicated.  
  
“That’s more like it,” he muttered. He assessed her for a moment longer then moved to the replicator, returning with a hypospray which he held up for her approval before applying it to her neck. “Better?” he asked as she sighed in relief at the slight abatement of her migraine.  
  
“A little. Thank you.”  
  
“Then let’s get down to it.” He sat behind his desk and switched on his computer, swivelling the screen to face her. “You can speak freely in here, Katie. My security system sweeps for bugs continuously.”  
  
Kathryn felt her eyebrows rise. “Paranoia, Owen?”  
  
He grinned. “Occupational hazard.”  
  
“All right.” She leaned forward. “Tell me about Chakotay’s mission.”  
  
“What do you know?”  
  
“Not much,” she admitted. “Most of it is unfounded suspicion, to be honest. But my instinct is telling me there’s some kind of conspiracy going on, and that it involves Premier Sina of Regulus and … and my husband.”  
  
“Go on,” Paris encouraged her.  
  
She eyed him. “An Orion at the conference on Ajilon warned me that the Syndicate is displeased with Ryan’s company,” she continued. “He suggested that Trans-Quadrant Express is muscling in on the Orion trade routes. But Ryan transports medical supplies to people in need.”  
  
“Is that what he told you?” Owen asked mildly.  
  
Kathryn flushed; now that she’d repeated Ryan’s claims aloud, her own naïveté seemed damningly obvious. “Tered – the Orion – also mentioned something about an investment on Trebus.”  
  
Paris’ eyes sharpened and his shoulders tensed.  
  
“I guess you didn’t know about that,” she muttered.  
  
“Hold on.” Paris turned to his console. “Computer, display vessels currently in orbit of Trebus and navigating the surrounding region.”  
  
Kathryn leaned in to squint at the screen. Zooming in on the Trebus system displayed – she counted quickly – seventeen vessels of varying configurations, mostly Trialan and Yridian, with a few she couldn’t readily identify.  
  
“Tell me, Admiral,” she murmured, “doesn’t that seem like an awful lot of ships an awfully long way from home?”  
  
“Yes,” Paris answered, “it does. And now that you mention it, a report came across my desk a few days ago regarding a new mining interest in that sector.”  
  
“Does Chakotay know?” she asked. “If TQE and other independent traders are somehow involved in a mining operation on Trebus, Chakotay’s people won’t take kindly to it. They could be in danger.”  
  
“I’ll look into it,” Paris promised. “Tell me what else you know.”  
  
Kathryn thought for a moment. “Premier Sina thanked me for supporting his request for more Starfleet patrols in the Yaraka sector and around the Borderlands, but I did no such thing. Ryan asked me to push for stronger Starfleet presence in the region months ago. I refused. I told him I couldn’t use my position to further his political agenda.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“But on my way home from Ajilon, I did some checking. Turns out it was Admiral Kjogo who ordered the troops to Yaraka.” Kathryn’s gaze sharpened on Paris’ face. “Now why would she be the one to do that, Owen? Kjogo is the head of Starfleet Communications. She has no business orchestrating fleet movements. That should fall to Admiral Ch’ura of Operations or Hayes at Strategic Command, or at the final hurdle, to Commander-in-Chief Shanthi.”  
  
“I can guarantee you that Taela Shanthi did not issue that order,” Paris said flatly.  
  
“Then what the hell is going on?” Kathryn demanded. “Why would Kjogo care how many ships we have patrolling the trade routes? I know her well enough by now to understand that she never does anything without a self-serving motive … so what’s she getting out of it?” She frowned. “And what does any of this have to do with Ryan?”  
  
Owen regarded her. “Are you sure you want to know? Because if I tell you, you may find it difficult to trust your husband again.”  
  
She couldn’t help the twist of her mouth. “Believe me, any illusions I may have held about Ryan’s integrity have already been tarnished. Now please, tell me everything you know.”  
  
“All right,” answered Paris. “Have you ever heard of a group called the Entera Coalition?”  
  


* * *

  
  
Chakotay had been forced to keep up his surly persona for the couple of hours he’d spent in Tuvok’s company, communicating with the Vulcan mostly in grunts and monosyllables until their time was up. But as he stood to leave, Tuvok extended his hand, and after a brief, confused glance at it – shaking hands was almost unheard of for Vulcans – Chakotay took it.  
  
As he did so, he felt something small and hard press against his palm. _A data chip_ , he realised, pocketing it surreptitiously before he offered Tuvok a cool nod and strode in the direction of Kash’s shuttle.  
  
For a fraction of a second, he’d wondered if Tuvok really had switched sides. Ever since Jonah Miles had sauntered into his office and turned Chakotay’s world upside down, he’d grown ever more uncertain of whom to trust. The chip, though – the chip was obviously intelligence data, and Tuvok was clearly a double agent, just like Chakotay. Whatever was on the chip would prove it.  
  
It was two days before Chakotay found an opportunity to inspect the data chip’s contents. He and Kash had been diverted to the Yaraka sector to inspect a pergium mine Entera had recently acquired. The Orions had laid claim to it; Tal’aura and Mekas suspected this was their opening salvo in the trade war they predicted, but they’d ordered Kash to try to smooth the troubled waters. Chakotay wasn’t sure if Entera preferred to avoid war altogether or were simply biding their time until they could be certain of victory.  
  
En route to Yaraka, he closeted himself in the tiny ‘fresher at the rear of the shuttle and inserted the data chip into a padd he’d swiped when Kash wasn’t looking. He frowned, scrolling through files until he found a partitioned group of maps. When he studied them he realised they were movements for the Starfleet vessels assigned to the sector, spanning the previous four months.  
  
A vessel manifest accompanied the map, listing the call sign of each ship. Of the twelve ships in the fleet, seven of them were flagged in red and a further four in green. Chakotay recognised the code as one Tuvok had used in tactical operations on _Voyager_ ; the red flags indicated ships that were controlled by enemy operatives, or at least had disloyal crew aboard, while the green were those Tuvok suspected but had not yet confirmed.  
  
He wished he could say he was surprised, but the cold knot of dread in his stomach seemed to grow more leaden with each passing day. He’d suspected for some time that Entera were not playing around. Since his trip to the Celendi Nebula, and now with Tuvok’s intel, he had ample proof of it.  
  
He couldn’t put off contacting Jonah Miles any longer. The stakes were far too high, and he couldn’t do this alone.  
  
When Kash’s meeting with the Orion representative on Yaraka had concluded – with false smiles and falser promises for withdrawal, she noted – she and Chakotay headed for the nearest bar, where he waited for her to find a companion for the evening before slipping out through the rear doors. He walked briskly through the streets of the makeshift mining town until he was certain he wasn’t being followed, then stood in the lee of a squat building to pull out his holo-communicator.  
  
~It’s about time, Captain,~ Jonah Miles greeted him. ~What do you have for me?~  
  
“Plenty,” Chakotay retorted. As he forwarded Tuvok’s data to Miles, he listed the conspirators’ names he’d given Owen Paris two days earlier, but either Miles already knew most of them or he was a much better actor than Paris; the only name that made him raise an eyebrow was that of the Starfleet presidential liaison.  
  
~Ube Mekas?~ he confirmed. ~You’re certain?~  
  
“He’s the one who ordered me to vet their spy on the USS _Zapata_ ,” Chakotay fixed Miles with a stony glare, “who turned out to be someone I’d never believe is really working for Entera.”  
  
~Ah, yes. Captain Tuvok.~  
  
“You knew?” There was a dangerous undercurrent to Chakotay’s tone.  
  
~Of course. I did tell you we’d approached other _Voyager_ crewmembers to join our organisation, Captain. Tuvok has been working for Section 31 since recovering from his neurological condition.~  
  
Chakotay tipped his head back against the wall behind him and swore under his breath. “You might have warned me,” he growled.  
  
~I’m sure you coped admirably with the surprise.~ Miles cocked his head to the side. ~We can use this to our advantage. If Entera already suspects Tuvok of disloyalty, his usefulness at his current post has come to an end. You’ll report to Entera that he is, indeed, passing information covertly back to Starfleet. They’ll find a way to get rid of him and install you in command of the _Zapata_ in his place. You’ll comply.~  
  
“Get rid of him?” Chakotay repeated. “You mean kill him.”  
  
~Don’t be so dramatic, Captain. There are less conspicuous ways to remove an untrustworthy agent than arranging an unfortunate accident. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll personally ensure that Captain Tuvok is simply reassigned, not neutralised.~  
  
“You’d better.”  
  
~Anything else you’d care to share with me?~  
  
“No,” Chakotay said coldly. “But I do have some orders of my own.”  
  
~For me?~ Miles looked amused. ~Go ahead.~  
  
“There’s someone I want you to keep an eye on,” replied Chakotay. “You and I know that Ryan Austin is Entera, but his wife doesn’t. I have reason to believe she intends to end their marriage, and considering he married her for the political capital I doubt he’ll be overly accommodating of her wishes. So I’m trusting you to keep Kathryn Janeway safe, Mr Miles.”  
  
~Perhaps you should have thought of that before you slept with her.~  
  
Chakotay rocked backwards. “ _What_ did you just say?”  
  
~If you want to keep Janeway safe, stay away from her. Austin is already suspicious of the pair of you. Do not do anything to attract his notice.~  
  
“How the _hell_ did you know?”  
  
~Let’s just say we have an operative already in play who’s very close to Janeway.~ Miles gave him a wolfish smile. ~We’re watching every move the lovely admiral makes, so there’s no need to worry, Captain. Just concentrate on doing your job.~  
  


* * *

  
Kathryn felt the blood draining from her face as Owen Paris talked.  
  
“The _Romulans_ are involved in this?” she managed finally. “And this organisation, this coalition – they have spies throughout Starfleet?”  
  
“Almost as high as it gets, I’m afraid. And we don’t know how many are planted throughout the lower ranks.”  
  
She swallowed hard. “You’re going to tell me Chakotay is posing as a double agent to penetrate Entera, aren’t you?”  
  
Paris nodded.  
  
Kathryn uttered a string of Klingon curses that made Paris’ eyes widen. “He told me he wasn’t in danger,” she said softly, before remembering herself and clamping her lips shut.  
  
Too late. “When did he tell you that?” Owen asked sharply.  
  
She felt her cheeks reddening and debated lying, but she was so tired of lies. “On Ajilon,” she admitted, facing the older man. “We bumped into each other at a bar. He said he was on a mission but the details were classified.”  
  
Paris eyed her. “Sounds like you had quite the conversation.”  
  
Kathryn blushed harder, but raised her chin defiantly and said nothing.  
  
“In any case,” Owen relented, “now you know. There’s no mission more important than Chakotay’s right now. Entera is heading for a war with the Orions, and I don’t have to tell you how destabilising that would be for the Borderlands region and consequently the Federation’s supply lines. Chakotay’s intel could bring down this coalition before anyone else gets hurt.”  
  
“Why can’t you stop the coalition now?” she demanded. “Surely you have enough proof of the conspiracy to expose them.”  
  
Paris was shaking his head. “We know most of the high-level players, but we can’t be certain we’ve identified them all. And until we do, any move we make could be countered. That would put Captain Chakotay in mortal danger, as well as potentially triggering the war we’re trying to avoid. This is a delicate situation, Admiral.”  
  
She closed her eyes momentarily. “What can I do to help?”  
  
“You can go back to your life and pretend you don’t know a thing.”  
  
Kathryn stared at him. “Like _hell_ I will.”  
  
“I’m not joking. If anyone develops even the slightest suspicion that you know about Entera or anything else I’ve told you tonight, our entire operation will be at risk. And you’ll be in danger too.” She opened her mouth to protest, and he held up a hand. “I’ll make it an order if I have to, Admiral.”  
  
She shut her mouth. “Understood, sir,” she grated eventually.  
  
“Good. Now, I think we’ve tried my wife’s patience for long enough, and I’m sure you’re hungry.” He stood, indicating the door. “Shall we go find out if dinner is served?”  
  


* * *

  
  
Dinner was delicious – it always was when his mother cooked from scratch – but Tom Paris couldn’t help noticing that Kathryn Janeway barely picked at her meal. She didn’t drink much of her wine either, and her hand frequently strayed to rub at her temple, a familiar gesture that meant she was exhausted and her head was hurting.  
  
Between main course and dessert they wandered out onto the terrace and Tom pulled her discreetly aside.  
  
“Headache?” he murmured sympathetically.  
  
Janeway’s mouth twisted. “What else is new?”  
  
“You get them a lot?” Tom frowned. “I hope you’re planning to see Doc about them.”  
  
She recoiled. “I’m fine, Commander.”  
  
“Okay,” he said, surprised at her sharp reply. “I didn’t mean to pry.”  
  
“No,” she relented, sighing, “I’m sorry, Tom. I’m just tired.”  
  
“I’m not surprised. You want me to drive you home?”  
  
“No need.” Janeway pulled a small device out of her pocket and showed it to him.  
  
“You have a personal transport unit?” Tom whistled. “Nice.”  
  
“Perks of the admiralty,” she said, flippant. “I can get home in the blink of an eye.”  
  
Then a shadow crossed her face.  
  
“Actually, Tom, would you mind if I borrowed a comm terminal? I need to … make some arrangements.”  
  
“Sure.” He led her inside to the reading room and tapped on the console set into the wall. “You don’t need a secure channel, do you?”  
  
“No, this is fine. Thank you.”  
  
As he retreated from the room, he heard chirpy female voice on the other end of the comm saying, “Welcome to the Fairmont. How may I help you?”  
  
And Janeway responded, “I’d like to book a room for tonight, please. And I have no idea how long I’ll be staying.”  
  
Tom shut the door quietly and strode back out to the terrace, sidling up to his father.  
  
“Hey, Dad,” he said, low-voiced. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”  
  


* * *

  
  
“Computer,” she sighed, tossing her uniform jacket on the pristine hotel bed, “open a channel to Lieutenant Tora Jens.”  
  
~Admiral?~ Despite having slept as little as Kathryn had on the trip back from Ajilon, Tora looked fresh and perfectly groomed. ~Are you all right?~  
  
Kathryn pulled her hand away from massaging the knot at the back of her neck. “I’m fine. I just wanted to let you know where I am.”  
  
~I know where you are, ma’am.~ Jens cleared her throat.  
  
“Of course you do,” Kathryn muttered, then frowned as she took in Jens’ surroundings. “You’re at the office?”  
  
~Yes, Admiral. I have reports to file on the Ajilon conference, and I need to prepare your schedule for the rest of the week. Admiral Kjogo is expecting you to brief her at 0900 tomorrow.~  
  
“Fine. I’ll be in the office by eight.” Kathryn hated to ask her next question. “I don’t suppose you know where my husband is at the moment?”  
  
~He’s at his office, ma’am.~ Tora’s face stayed composed. ~Would you like me to connect you?~  
  
“I can manage that, thank you,” Kathryn said tartly.  
  
~Admiral…~ Jens hesitated, ~if you don’t mind me asking, are you intending to return to your apartment?~  
  
“I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Lieutenant.”  
  
~No ma’am. I’m sorry.~ Tora paused. ~If there’s anything you need – from your apartment, I mean – I’d be happy to fetch it and bring it to you.~  
  
“Thank you,” Kathryn sighed, softening. “There’s nothing I need at the moment. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tora.”  
  
Cutting the channel, she pulled off the rest of her uniform and wandered into the bathroom. The luxurious, oval-shaped tub tempted her, but she suspected she’d be too agitated to enjoy it. A hot-water shower would do for now.  
  
She stepped under the spray, closing her eyes as the water rained onto her face, and tried to order her thoughts.  
  
Evil conspiracies, plans for war, shady dealings in the Trebus system … Kathryn rested her forehead against the tiled wall. This was almost worse than some of her adventures in the Delta quadrant.  
  
And at least out there, she’d had her crew to back her up. She’d had Tuvok and Tom and Seven and B’Elanna. She’d had Chakotay.  
  
Chakotay, whose life was in danger at this very moment, and for every moment he continued playing the role of traitor to the Federation.  
  
Kathryn switched off the shower. “Sonic dry,” she ordered, and within moments she was slipping into a comfortable shift dress and pulling her now-dry hair into a ponytail. She dialled up an analgesic spray from the replicator, applied it to her neck and waited for it to ease her headache.  
  
Chakotay was highly trained, not to mention a former Maquis. He could, as Owen Paris had pointed out, take care of himself.  
  
But could she stay out of it, as Paris had ordered? Could she stand back and let Chakotay fend for himself when she might be able to help him?  
  
Her mind wandered back to the Delta quadrant. The Baneans, the Mokra, the Borg … how many times had she or her crew resorted to subterfuge in order to survive? And Chakotay had been first to put himself in the line of fire, or to protect her and back her up when she insisted on taking point… the Hirogen, Species 8472, the Devore …  
  
The Devore.  
  
Kathryn’s eyes went wide. She strode to the replicator, ordered a whiskey and threw it back in one swallow.  
  
The Devore. Kashyk. A seductive game of cat-and-mouse, in which there could be only one winner. And she’d won.  
  
Could she do it again? Could she use the same tactic to defeat Ryan at his own game?  
  
Chakotay’s parting words from Ajilon came back to her: _I need you to promise you’ll stay away from him. He’s dangerous_.  
  
And she’d had every intention of keeping that promise. She’d been looking forward to expunging her twisted, treacherous husband from her life.  
  
But that was before she found out everything she’d learned tonight.  
  
“Computer,” Kathryn said slowly, seating herself in front of the comm terminal on the quaint little desk by the window, “open a channel to the office of Councillor Ryan Austin.”  
  
She arranged her features in an expression of appropriately reserved regret, and a moment later Ryan’s handsome face appeared on screen.  
  
~Kathryn,~ he ran a hand through his hair, shoulders slackening in apparent relief, ~I’ve been so worried. Where are you?~  
  
“I’m staying in a hotel,” she answered. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still be at home.”  
  
Ryan’s mouth tensed. ~I haven’t moved out. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.~  
  
“I’m not ready to decide that yet, Ryan.” Kathryn made a show of biting her lip. “But we do need to talk.”  
  
~Yeah, we do.~ He leaned in toward the screen, blue eyes earnest and fixed on hers. ~I miss you.~  
  
She let her expression soften. “I miss you, too,” she murmured.  
  
~Let me come over to your hotel,~ he suggested, encouraged. ~There’s a bar downstairs, right?~  
  
She wondered if he already knew where she was staying; it wouldn’t have taken much effort to find out, not with his connections. Not with the tracking device she now knew Kjogo had planted on her.  
  
”All right,” she conceded. “I’m at the Fairmont in Ghirardelli Square. Meet me in the lobby at 2300 hours and I’ll let you buy me a drink.”  
  
It took everything she had, but she forced her voice into a soft, husky cadence toward the end of her invitation. Glancing up from under her lashes, she caught the briefest flash of satisfaction across his handsome features, and knew he’d been taken in.  
  
It felt good to be the one doing the manipulating for a change. She let her lips curve upward into a tiny, enigmatic smile.  
  
~I’ll be there,~ Ryan promised, his voice equally low and gravelly, and Kathryn cut the connection and slumped back in her chair, all traces of the skittish seductress draining from her.  
  
_You’ve done this before,_ she reminded herself as she massaged her temples. _It’s nothing. You’ll have him wrapped around your finger in no time. Just like Kashyk_.  
  
She refused to pay attention to the little voice in her head that warned her that this was not at all the same thing.


	15. Judas Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super speedy beta effort once again from Helen8462 and LittleObsessions. Thank you both <3
> 
> I'm working on the next chapter but can't promise the next updates will be as quick as the last few. I hope you'll all bear with me :)

Call me a rebel, rebel  
I walk the plank, not a tear in my eye  
I won't go down, your blushing bride  
Under the water, I'll be sharpening my knife  
MILCK, _Devil Devil_  
  


* * *

  
**_Chapter Fourteen: Judas Kiss_**  
_June, 2379_  
  
  
“Take us down, Ensign. Nice and easy.”  
  
Chakotay clasped his helmsman’s shoulder in reassurance; she was barely a month out of the Academy and had clearly never expected to be landing a _Surak_ -class starship on her very first mission. Truth be told, Chakotay would have preferred not to land the ship either, but with the damage to her port nacelle he had little choice.  
  
His operations officer had been unable to confirm what, exactly, had caused the explosion, but Chakotay wasn’t taking any chances. In the two months since Kash’s attempt to make peace with the Syndicate over the rights to the Yaraka pergium mine, the Orions had progressed from politely warning Federation and Entera ships to vacate the region, to less subtle forms of intimidation.  
  
As a result, Starfleet had increased its presence in the Yaraka sector to a fleet of sixteen, led by the vessel Chakotay was now commanding – Tuvok’s former ship, the USS _Zapata_.  
  
The _Zapata_ was nothing like _Voyager_ , he thought ruefully as Ensign Trabin fought to keep the cumbersome ship level. But not even Tom Paris would have been able to pull off a graceful landing in this craft, navigating Yaraka’s ionised atmosphere with one faulty nacelle.  
  
Still, he couldn’t deny how _right_ it felt to be commanding the bridge of a Starfleet ship. Maybe he wasn’t as done with this life as he’d thought.  
  
The _Zapata_ touched down with only a mild thump, and Chakotay leaned in to murmur a quiet _well done_ in Trabin’s ear. Straightening up, he ordered his ops officer to work with Engineering on the cause of the nacelle explosion, left his first officer in charge and excused himself to his ready room, chased by a flurry of _aye, Captain_ s, thinking ruefully that Harry and B'Elanna would have had answers for him already.  
  
“Coffee, black,” he ordered the replicator absentmindedly. Drink in hand, he stood at the viewport – nothing like the panoramic windows Kathryn had enjoyed in her ready room on _Voyager_ , but it served its purpose – contemplating the dismal grey skies of Yaraka and wondering which of his brand-new crew he could trust.  
  
The _Zapata_ had been his for six weeks now, by order of the Commander-in-Chief, Taela Shanthi. He wasn’t quite sure how Owen Paris had pulled it off, but the admiral had come through for him in a big way.  
  
Chakotay had asked him for verifiable Starfleet intel he could feed to Entera to encourage their trust in him, something he could also use to discredit Tuvok just so he could get the Vulcan safely away. Paris had offered up Shanthi’s plan to launch some of the new _Hawking_ -class fleet to explore the far reaches of the Beta quadrant. That part of the intelligence was true. The bait Chakotay was to offer Entera was that the Federation’s dilithium supplies were drying up, and the _Hawking_ -class vessels had been commissioned specifically to seek out new mineral sources using the astrometric sensors designed by none other than Harry Kim and Seven of Nine.  
  
He’d given the information to Kash, implying heavily that Tuvok had known of the dwindling dilithium sources and kept that tidbit from Entera. Within a week, Tuvok had been recalled to Starfleet HQ and Chakotay was ordered to take command of the _Zapata_.  
  
~Engineering to Captain Chakotay.~ The voice of his chief engineer broke into his reverie.  
  
“Go ahead,” he responded.  
  
~Sir, we’ve scanned the nacelle and the surrounding hull, but we’ve found no evidence of an attack. I think the damage was caused by a microfracture in the hull plating.~  
  
“Don’t think, Lieutenant Sklaar. Be certain.” Chakotay shook his head, although the Tellarite couldn’t see him. “I want every millimetre of this ship’s hull inspected for additional microfractures. Do it twice, or as many times as you have to until you’re sure. I’ll expect your report on my desk by 2200 hours.”  
  
~Aye sir,~ mumbled the engineer, cowed, and signed off.  
  
Moving to sit behind his desk, Chakotay activated his console and called up a map of the sector. Eight Orion vessels lurked in orbit of Yaraka, he noted. Sabotage would seem to be a more likely cause of the _Zapata_ ’s damaged nacelle than microfractures, considering he’d instituted weekly overall inspections of the ship. According to the records, Tuvok had done the same.  
  
He wondered what Tuvok was doing now. They’d had the briefest of opportunities to talk when Tuvok had relinquished his command, and if he hadn’t known the Vulcan as well as he did, Chakotay might not have picked up on Tuvok’s sense of relief at the change. He had asked what made Tuvok agree to work for Section 31 in the first place, worried that Miles and his cohorts had somehow threatened or blackmailed him into it, but Tuvok had responded that he’d seen the decision as logical. As soon as the _fal-tor-voh_ had healed him of his neurological disorder, his keen tactical mind had assessed the post-Dominion War uncertainty and predicted the rise of a new, hostile superpower. Section 31’s approach may have been unexpected, but he’d immediately embraced the chance to serve the Federation’s interests, even if covertly.  
  
Like Chakotay, though, he’d begun to feel the strain of living a double life.  
  
Sighing, Chakotay drained his coffee. The secrets he was keeping had grown so heavy they threatened to drown him, but until he’d found the key to bringing down Entera without triggering an interstellar conflict, he was trapped.  
  
Perhaps the part that tore him up the most was that he couldn’t even contact anyone he cared about. He walked a tightrope every day in his efforts to convince Entera he held no loyalty to anyone he’d left behind.  
  
Including Kathryn.  
  
He felt the same pang he always did when he thought of her, and had to grit his teeth to refrain from tapping into the Federation news reports. He knew what he’d see. Whether it was a political story or a gossip piece, Kathryn Janeway would be smiling at him through the screen, and beside her – always beside her – would be Ryan Austin.  
  
_She broke her promise_ , Chakotay couldn’t help but think, for the fifteenth or fiftieth time.  
  
Agonising as the thought was, he hoped she’d gone back to her husband voluntarily; that she’d decided – for whatever reason – to try to repair her marriage. He couldn’t imagine her forgiving Austin for what he’d done. But if she had, Chakotay could only hope she’d made that decision of her own free will.  
  
It was better than the alternative.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Well well, Lieutenant Commander Kim. You keep this up and pretty soon you’ll outrank me.” Tom Paris slapped his friend on the back and nodded at Harry’s shiny new pips.  
  
“Just making up for lost time,” Harry grinned back at him, standing to shake Tom’s hand. “Anyway, I’d have already held this rank if we hadn’t ended up in the Delta quadrant. You, on the other hand, would’ve been peddling cheap holonovels to Ferengi traders, if you were lucky.”  
  
“Ouch,” Tom mocked.  
  
“Speaking of _Voyager_ ,” Kim went on, “have you heard from any of our former commanders? Admiral Janeway sent me a congratulatory note on my promotion, but Seven says she hasn’t heard from Chakotay for months now.”  
  
“My dad says he’s commanding a ship, out on patrol in the Borderlands,” Tom eased into the seat opposite Harry’s at the café table, “but I have no idea why Chakotay hasn’t been in contact with anyone. Tuvok’s back though; I saw him at HQ yesterday. Red uniform, four pips on his collar.”  
  
A crease appeared between Harry’s eyebrows. “Is it just me, or is there something weird going on? I know Janeway and Chakotay shielded us from the worst of it out in the Delta and Tuvok has always been close-mouthed, but it’s not like any of them to just disappear without a word. Surely they know we’d worry about them?”  
  
A server appeared, and Tom waited until they’d ordered their meals before leaning in and lowering his voice. “You’re right, Harry,” he murmured, “something is going on, and I think it has something to do with the Orion Syndicate. I overheard my father’s aide talking about the Syndicate when I went to pick Dad up for lunch yesterday. That’s where I saw Tuvok – in the Turner Building. Said he’d switched jobs with Chakotay.”  
  
“Tuvok’s working for Starfleet Intelligence?” Harry’s frown deepened. “You can’t tell me Admiral Janeway doesn’t know anything about that.”  
  
“From what I can make out, Janeway’s too busy posing for photos and giving interviews to know much of anything important.”  
  
“And doesn’t that seem odd to you as well?” demanded Harry. “She never cared about public adulation before. It’s like she’s completely switched personality since we got home.”  
  
“My point exactly,” Tom said. “You know, she came to dinner at my parents’ place a couple of months ago. Looked like hell, barely ate a thing, jumped out of her skin when B'Elanna accidentally smashed a glass. It was like we were back in the Delta, she was that on edge.”  
  
“So what’s going on?”  
  
“No idea,” shrugged Tom, “but I intend to find out.”  
  


* * *

  
  
From the night she’d returned from Ajilon, the night she’d met Ryan for a drink in the bar at the Fairmont Hotel, Kathryn had embarked on the falsest, riskiest game of kiss-chase she’d ever played in her life.  
  
She’d asked him to move out of her apartment – just while he earned back her trust, she’d pleaded – and realising she wouldn’t negotiate on that point, he had agreed.  
  
He had asked that she help him to keep up their public appearance of a dynamic, well-matched power couple. Kathryn had, grudgingly, conceded.  
  
She had requested that they spend time apart; Ryan accepted that, on the condition that she also give him the chance to woo her back.  
  
If she wanted him to believe she would forgive his transgressions, she realised, she could hardly refuse.  And so for almost two months she had stood at his side and smiled on his arm in public, while whenever they met in private she managed to avoid letting him touch her.  
  
Until tonight.  
  
He had turned up on her doorstep unannounced, and stupidly, she’d ordered the door open without checking who was visiting. She had been just about to get into the tub; her hair was pinned up, a silk robe wrapped hastily around her, a glass of wine in one hand. Ryan had wandered through the vestibule and into the lounge, and at the sight of her his eyes had turned smoky.  
  
“You have no idea how much I want you right now,” he told her, his gaze fixed on hers as he sidled toward her. “Please, Kathryn. Please just let me kiss you.”  
  
He took her hand, his thumb stroking lightly over her wrist; her heartbeat thumped an uneasy cadence, and she shivered in mingled lust and revulsion.  
  
She cursed her own stupidity. Why had she let him in?  
  
“Ryan,” she protested, trying not to let fear creep into her voice, “I’m not ready…”  
  
“For a kiss?” He turned hot blue eyes on her as he lifted her hand, nuzzling his lips over the back of it.  
  
Her breath caught. Arousal fizzed over her skin, brash and potent and raising the tiny hairs all along her arm. She thought she might be sick.  
  
“Please,” she croaked, no longer sure whether she was begging him to back off, or to press forward.  
  
For the briefest of moments she was certain, reading his eyes, that he intended to push past any protests her lips might make and take what he wanted. But sense appeared to prevail and he smiled and released her hand, stepping back deliberately.  
  
“Good night, Kathryn,” he said, and retreated, letting himself out of the apartment.  
  
The tables turned from that night on.  
  
Where before Ryan had restrained himself to a brush of the fingertips, a brief slide of his hand over the small of her back, now his touch lingered. He would catch her hand in his when they walked, twining their fingers together even when she tried, half-heartedly, to pull away; he would put his hands around her waist, stroke his thumb along the line of her shoulder, when she accompanied him to dinner or cocktails. He began to lean in closer when they were out in public, let his lips brush her cheek or the corner of her mouth.  
  
And Kathryn shuddered and quaked and craved, and knew she was losing the game.  
  
In between the times she forced herself to endure his presence without crawling out of her skin – or her clothes – she suffered.  
  
The worst of it was there were days when she felt it was all for nothing. She’d broken her promise to Chakotay, placed herself back in the hands of her abuser, in order to investigate Ryan’s part in the Entera Coalition. But she had found out nothing, and until she let Ryan back into her home – and consequently her bed – she doubted she ever would.  
  
And so at the end of June, when Ryan asked her to accompany him on a brief diplomatic tour to meet with representatives of a potential new Federation member world near the Yaris Nebula, she gathered her courage and agreed.  
  
She wasn’t sure if he was the one who sweet-talked Admiral Kjogo into approving Kathryn’s presence on the trip, or if President Zife had ordered it. She did know Lieutenant Jens was dismayed when Kathryn asked her to book them into adjoining suites on the Proxima starbase. But she cut off Jens’ subtle attempt at questioning with a flat declaration that this was to be a kind of second honeymoon, and when Jens asked to accompany her, Kathryn refused.  
  
Pretending she was back in the flush of love with Ryan was going to be difficult enough without Tora’s knowing eyes following her every move.  
  
She knew she’d have to sleep with him. She knew what he could do to her body, and that it would make her crave more. And she knew it was the only thing she could do to convince him that he’d won her back so that she could put her plan in motion.  
  
But she didn’t have to like it.  
  


* * *

  
  
Chakotay’s crew had repaired the _Zapata_ ’s damaged nacelle and they’d lifted off the surface of Yaraka to rejoin the fleet, only to discover an imbalance in the warp coil intermix ratio that could have been devastating. It was another two days before Chakotay was satisfied his ship was in order, and at his earliest opportunity he contacted Jonah Miles to voice his suspicions.  
  
“The _Zapata_ underwent a complete overhaul less than six months ago, and these anomalies should have been detected then,” he told Miles. “It can’t be a coincidence that we’ve almost lost the ship twice while the Orions are in close proximity.”  
  
~Agreed,~ Miles responded. ~The Syndicate could have a plant on your ship, Captain. I’ll see what I can find out.~  
  
“Make it quick,” Chakotay ordered. “I’ve made arrangements to meet with an Orion called Tered, who’s heading up the mining operation on Yaraka. I need to know if I’ll be walking into an ambush.”  
  
~I’m aware of Mr Tered. He represented some of the Syndicate’s interests at the recent conference on Ajilon. I recommend arming yourself before meeting him, Captain. And take backup.~  
  
“Great,” Chakotay muttered. “Who the hell can I trust out here to back me up?”  
  
~Your chief of engineering is one of us,~ Miles told him somewhat grudgingly.  
  
“Sklaar is a Section agent?”  
  
Miles inclined his head. ~We hide in plain sight, Captain Chakotay. Give Sklaar the code I’m sending you now and he’ll give his life for you, if necessary.~  
  
Chakotay memorised the alphanumeric code displayed on the holo-communicator. “I hope it won’t come to that, Miles.”  
  
~Needs must,~ Jonah replied carelessly. ~Report back after your meeting with Tered. Miles out.~  
  
Striding onto his bridge, Chakotay ordered the helm to full stop twenty kilometres to port of a large Orion vessel. The _Zapata_ was seriously outclassed, he noted with trepidation.  
  
He handed the bridge to his first officer and ordered Lieutenant Sklaar to meet him in the transporter room. When the Tellarite arrived, Chakotay handed him a scrap of paper without a word. Sklaar read the code Chakotay had copied onto it, met Chakotay’s eyes and nodded.  
  
“You can count on me, sir.”  
  
The pair of them materialised on the Orion ship, where two burly green men stripped them of their evident weapons and escorted them to a conference room.  
  
“Captain Chakotay.” A tall, heavyset Orion rose from a throne-like chair at the head of the conference table. “I am Tered. Please, sit down. I’m sure you’ll enjoy a glass of Rigellian brandy – and perhaps a bucket of slops for your porcine little companion?”  
  
Chakotay bared his teeth, and Tered laughed richly.  
  
“I see the pig is accompanied by a wolf. Very well, I won’t tease you any longer. Sit.”  
  
Reluctantly Chakotay obeyed, and nodded at Sklaar to do the same.  
  
Tered leaned forward with a disingenuous smile. “Chakotay,” he rolled the name around his mouth. “Past and present officer of Starfleet, former Maquis insurgent, and native of the fifth planet in the Dorvan system, commonly known as Trebus. Terrible, what the Cardassians did to your planet. It has recovered well though, has it not?”  
  
Chakotay met his gaze steadily and did not reply.  
  
“In fact,” Tered leaned back, pausing for a casual sip from his brandy glass, “I understand Trebus has recently come into a rather impressive windfall, not that your people will be able to profit from it.  Tell me – how does your sister Sekaya feel about losing the rights to that dilithium mine to a Federation-sanctioned group of rogue traders?”  
  
Chakotay froze.  
  
“Don’t look so shocked, Captain. I’ve done my research.”  
  
“So it seems,” Chakotay managed finally. He felt Sklaar shift slightly beside him and sent the Tellarite a quelling glance, reminding himself that though both of them carried concealed weapons, they were no match for the seven Orion men in the room.  
  
And besides, he needed to find out what else Tered knew.  
  
“I wonder why you’ve expended so much effort on investigating my background, Mr Tered?” Chakotay kept his voice as calm and indifferent as he could. “I’m really not that interesting.”  
  
“I beg to differ,” Tered said, smooth as satin. “We’ve been watching you for some time, Captain. I wonder what your lieutenant here would think if he knew you had yourself profited from the mine on Trebus, or that you’re so closely associated with the Entera Coalition?”  
  
For the second time in a minute, Chakotay went still.  
  
“More to the point,” Tered was clearly relishing this, “what would your sister think?”  
  
“Don’t ever talk about my sister again,” Chakotay growled, fixing Tered with a flat stare.  
  
Tered laughed. “Very well. Let’s talk about your former commanding officer instead.”  
  
Chakotay’s spine tightened. “What?”  
  
“The lovely Admiral Janeway.” Tered held his glass up to the light, twisting it to enjoy the play of colour from the amber liquor. “I met her on Ajilon Prime. A very interesting woman.”  
  
It was clear he had more to say, so Chakotay waited.  
  
“But perhaps an uninformed one,” Tered went on. “She seemed unaware of her husband’s interest in Trebus when I mentioned it to her.”  
  
Chakotay’s breath stuck in his throat. “You told her?”  
  
He felt the blood leaving his face. Kathryn knew about the dilithium mine. She knew about Ryan’s investment in it.  
  
If he knew her at all – and he did – her curiosity wouldn’t let her ignore that discovery. She’d start digging, and she wouldn’t let up until she found out the truth.  
  
Kathryn was in danger.  
  
“Interesting,” Tered murmured, apparently to himself, as he watched Chakotay’s reaction. “I wonder, does Admiral Janeway’s husband know how you feel about her?”  
  
Chakotay stood abruptly, jolting Sklaar to his feet as well. “I think this conversation is at an end, Mr Tered.”  
  
“Very well,” Tered smirked. “My men will escort you back to your ship. And, Captain?”  
  
Chakotay turned.  
  
“Your friends in Entera aren’t taking the Syndicate seriously,” Tered said, low with menace. “Have them withdraw from our established trade routes immediately, or there will be war. And in war there are always casualties.” He smiled. “Sometimes, even celebrated Starfleet admirals get caught in the crossfire.”  
  
“You’ve made your point, Mr Tered.” Chakotay’s voice was rough. “I’ll pass on the message.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Kathryn and Ryan returned from their diplomatic mission to the Yaris Nebula in the early days of July, and Ryan immediately moved back into her apartment.  
  
She had given into him on Proxima Station. Over dinner in her suite he’d woven her a pretty tale of contrition and promises, had taken her hand, had knelt by her chair and all but begged her to take him back.  
  
And although everything in her screamed at her to run, she made herself smile and offer her forgiveness, made herself accept Ryan’s kiss and return it threefold.  
  
Let him unpin her hair so that it fell over her shoulders; let him run his fingers through it. Let him lead her into the bedroom, when he stripped the uniform slowly from her body. Let him kiss and stroke each expanse of skin as he revealed it, as he unwrapped her like a gift he had every right to.  
  
Let him into her body, let him bring her to a climax that made her cry, let him believe her tears sprang from relief and joy, not fear and shame.  
  
Readying herself for the party Owen and Julia Paris were throwing for their wedding anniversary, Kathryn tried not to think about Proxima as she stood before the mirror, wearing a dress Ryan had picked out for her. She tried not to think about the weeks since they’d returned; about Ryan sharing her bed every night, about his keen interest in the negotiations Kjogo had assigned her, about his newfound penchant for directing where she went, what she ate, what she wore. He seemed to want to know every detail of her life now that she’d accepted him back as her husband.  
  
She couldn’t remember him being this controlling, this possessive, the first time around. Maybe he was uncertain she’d really forgiven him, she mused. Or maybe he didn’t trust her.  
  
Her throat tightened at the thought. What if, somehow, he’d found out about the night she’d spent with Chakotay on Ajilon Prime?  
  
Kathryn shook her head. It wasn’t possible; the only other person who knew was Tora Jens. And considering how strongly Jens disliked Ryan, she couldn’t imagine the secret slipping out between them.  
  
But Ryan’s possessiveness made her feel utterly trapped. She couldn’t steal a moment to herself these days – he had even started accompanying her to her personal training sessions, and dropping in at her office unannounced – and she was growing anxious that she’d never have the chance to find out what he was up to.  
  
Worst of all, her headaches had returned, and had grown so agonising that some days she could barely function. The only respite she ever got from them was when Jens used her Betazoid technique to ease the pain, or when Ryan made love to her.  
  
Ryan strode into the bedroom, straightening his tie, and stopped short at the sight of her.  
  
“Fuck,” he said succinctly, and immediately moved to crowd her up against the mirror, sliding his hands over her corseted bodice and onto her breasts. “Do we have to go out? I want to rip that thing off you with my teeth.”  
  
She tried to control her breathing as his fingers and thumbs pinched her hardening nipples, as one hand slid downward and curled between her thighs, gathering the satin of her skirt in his grip. “Ryan, don’t,” she murmured weakly as he pulled her back hard against his chest and bent to lick at the corner of her mouth. “You’ll mess up my makeup. And Lieutenant Jens is waiting for us downstairs.”  
  
“Damn.” Reluctantly, he eased up on his grasp and she stepped quickly away. “But fair warning, Kathryn – when we get home tonight, I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”  
  
Kathryn swallowed and tried a flirtatious smile. “Promise?” she asked, forcing lightness into her voice.  
  
“Count on it.” Ryan made another grab for her, catching her around the waist and dipping his head to bite at her nipple through the satin before releasing her again. “Let’s go – the sooner we make an appearance, the sooner we can leave.”  
  
Lieutenant Jens, in a svelte black dress, was waiting in the lobby of their apartment building when they rode the turbolift down. “You look beautiful, Admiral,” she murmured as she fell into step with them.  
  
Kathryn tried to smile at her through the sore haze behind her eyes. “You too, Tora.”  
  
“Headache?” her aide murmured sympathetically as the two women moved ahead of Ryan to the waiting hovercar.  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
Inside the car, Tora brushed her fingers lightly against Kathryn’s nape while Ryan was looking in the other direction, and the headache eased.  
  
“Thanks,” Kathryn whispered, and then Ryan slid his hand along her inner thigh under cover of the darkened car, and she forced herself to relax and allow it, biting her lip until she tasted blood.  
  
They arrived at the Paris house and were ushered out onto the terrace by Tom, dressed in a dinner suit and eyeing Ryan with polite distaste.  
  
“So you’re Councillor Austin,” he said, shaking Ryan’s hand after he’d kissed Kathryn briefly on the cheek. “It’s good to meet you at last, sir.”  
  
His tone made it patently clear the sentiment was false, and Kathryn noticed Jens cocking her head and staring at Tom with sharp, sudden interest. Tom’s blue gaze panned Tora’s without a flicker, but Kathryn knew him too well to believe he hadn’t picked up on her scrutiny.  
  
She could hear Ryan mouthing platitudes as Tom waved over a server, who supplied them all with flutes of champagne. And suddenly she had to get away. _Just for a minute_ , she begged the universe.  
  
The universe responded in the shape of B'Elanna Torres, Harry Kim and Seven of Nine, who appeared to flank her like bodyguards. Kathryn let them shuffle her away from Ryan, who was being monopolised by Tom; the manoeuvre was so smoothly executed that she couldn’t help wondering if the four of them had planned it.  
  
Tora Jens drifted to the edge of their group as Harry was detailing the construction progress of the _Hawking_ -class ships and explaining he’d been offered the post of chief engineer on the _Mehit_ for the fleet’s expedition to the Beta quadrant. “And Seven is signing on as chief science consultant,” he finished, arm proudly around her waist. “We leave in a few months, when the last of the fleet is ready to launch.”  
  
“For how long?” Kathryn asked.  
  
“Two years, initially,” replied Seven. “We hope to explore the outer reaches of the quadrant, past the Darsaean Alliance.”  
  
“Your parents must be dreading it, Harry,” Kathryn sighed. “And Seven, what about your aunt? Won’t she miss you?”  
  
“Of course, and I’ll miss her,” Seven answered. “But my Aunt Irene is moving to the Vega Colony, where we have other relatives. She won’t be alone.”  
  
_Vega Colony_. The memory sliced through Kathryn like a knife. “Maja,” she blurted before she’d thought twice.  
  
Someone in the circle gave a short intake of breath, but Kathryn was too focused on Seven’s frown to pay it any notice.  
  
“Admiral?” Seven queried.  
  
Kathryn shook her head. “Just something somebody mentioned,” she mumbled.  
  
“About my cousin, Maja Hansen?” Seven’s head tilted as she regarded Kathryn.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“You aren’t the first to ask about her in recent times,” Seven offered carefully. “What would you like to know?”  
  
Kathryn glanced around at the avid faces: Harry, B'Elanna, Tora … “Maybe we’d better talk about this privately,” she backed off. “I’ll comm you next week to arrange lunch.”  
  
“I look forward to it,” Seven replied.  
  
“Kathryn, there you are,” Ryan descended upon the group, his hands immediately finding Kathryn’s waist. “Are these your former crew?” he asked, smile wide and gleaming.  
  
She felt his thumb stroking the side of her breast and shifted her arm to trap it, wondering if he was doing it on purpose. “You’ve met Harry and Seven before,” she reminded him. “And this is B'Elanna Torres, _Voyager_ ’s former chief engineer.”  
  
“Of course,” Ryan said smoothly. The offending hand slid down to curl possessively around her hipbone, and he extricated the other to shake B'Elanna’s hand, then Harry’s and Seven’s. “I guess I owe you all my thanks.”  
  
“Oh?” B'Elanna’s tone was polite, but the curl of her lip was not. Tom, appearing at her side, pressed his hand warningly on hers.  
  
“Without you, Kathryn might never have found her way home from the Delta quadrant. Thanks for keeping her alive out there so I could eventually find the love of my life.”  
  
Even Tom couldn’t hide his affront at that comment. “Actually, it was the admiral who kept us alive,” he said coolly. “Why don’t I take you to meet my parents, Councillor?”  
  
“Of course,” Ryan responded, but as he detached himself from the group to follow Tom, he curled his hand around Kathryn’s elbow, grip tight, and tugged her along with him.  
  
“Is he always like that?” she heard B'Elanna ask Jens, a little too loudly.  
  
Ryan’s hip bumped hers as he leaned in close, his hand shifting to spread across her lower back. The tips of his fingers traced the upper swell of her ass as she walked.  
  
“I like your friends, Kathryn,” he murmured in her ear, his thumb dipping lower. “They’re very loyal to you.”  
  
Kathryn shuddered as a pulse curled and beat between her thighs at his touch, and nausea rose in her throat at the threat she wasn’t sure he even knew he was implying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 30 June 2379 - when Kathryn ramps up her false seduction of Ryan at the Proxima starbase - is, for those following the _Voyager_ Relaunch books, the date Admiral Janeway and Captain Chakotay met at [Proxima Station](http://memory-beta.wikia.com/wiki/Proxima_Station) in book-canon ( _Full Circle_ ). Yeah, I’m evil and you can all hate me, it’s cool.


	16. Invite the Devil Inside

Why don't you invite the devil inside  
To dance around my living room?  
Only got a table for two  
I put my face inside my hands  
'Cause I fucking hate the things you do  
Tash Sultana, _Salvation_  
  


* * *

 

 ** _Chapter Fifteen: Invite the Devil Inside_**  
_August, 2379_  
  
  
~Finally,~ Sekaya’s dark eyes flashed fury through the comm screen. ~Anyone would think you’ve been avoiding me, brother.~  
  
Chakotay couldn’t help squirming. His sister was right: he had been avoiding her calls. Now that he knew Lieutenant Sklaar was with Miles’ agency he was watching his back ever more assiduously for signs of traitors aboard his ship. His cover with Entera relied on them believing he had no ties to friends or family, that he was motivated solely by a lust for power. It was bad enough that the Orion Syndicate had threatened the safety of everyone he cared about; he couldn’t give Entera the same leverage.  
  
Deliberately, he coloured his tone with irritated dismissal. “What is it, Sekaya?” he demanded. “I’m busy.”  
  
He glanced up at the screen to see her eyes fill with hurt confusion. ~What’s wrong with you, Amal?~ she asked. ~Our planet has become a mining world, worth nothing but the profit others can strip from it. You promised me six months ago that you’d make this right. Now you won’t even take my calls?~  
  
Chakotay swallowed, forcing himself to go on. “I’m sorry you’re finding it difficult to cope with reality, sister. Maybe you should talk to the ruling council about finding a new home. Trebus is more trouble than it’s worth.”  
  
He stared at her hard, willing her to understand. To play along.  
  
To his relief, comprehension dawned in her eyes.  
  
~I see,~ Sekaya said coolly. ~Well, perhaps you’ll get your wish, _Captain_. The ruling council seems to believe we need protection from these Borderlands traders and has decided to sell the mining rights to your Federation friends. Considering the protection they offered us last time someone tried to take our world from us, I am not hopeful.~  
  
Chakotay couldn’t help his short intake of breath. He could see the anger and frustration scrawled all over his sister’s face and he longed to ease her distress, but he had to keep up the charade.  
  
“Good,” he said, his tone abrupt. “Getting off that dustbowl would be better for you and your family. You should find somewhere safer to live.”  
  
~And you should pay more attention to what’s important,~ Sekaya snapped. ~Look around, brother. There’s a war going on without a single shot being fired, and once again our people are caught in the middle of it. You left Starfleet once to fight against injustice. Have you really changed so much that you won’t do it again?~  
  
“Yes, I’ve changed,” he forced himself to retort. “I’ve given up on lost causes, Sekky. You should try it.”  
  
~We have nothing more to say to one another,~ Sekaya said flatly. ~Contact me when you’re ready to see the truth, Chakotay. Until then, goodbye.~  
  
She closed the channel, and Chakotay shot to his feet, pacing his ready room in agitation. Though they’d both been playing a role, that conversation with his sister was sharply, painfully reminiscent of the last angry exchange he’d had with his late father.  
  
And what she’d told him, about the Federation buying the Treban mining rights – was it true? He had to know.  
  
He pulled the holo-communicator from his pocket and with a few swift commands to the computer, had activated a dispersal field and a warning countdown. He’d have three minutes at most to get the information he needed.  
  
Fortunately, Jonah Miles answered his comm call immediately.  
  
~It’s true,~ Miles confirmed when Chakotay told him what he’d learned. ~And there’s more.~  
  
Chakotay braced. “Go ahead.”  
  
~President Zife is about to enact a new policy to restrict free trade across the quadrant. There will be sanctions against the Orions and the Ferengi.~ Miles’ mouth twisted in displeasure. ~I’m sure you’re aware that the Starfleet presence in the Borderlands will be even less welcome now. You’d better prepare yourself, Captain. Things could get unpleasant.~  
  
“Sekaya was right,” muttered Chakotay. “We’re already at war.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Usually, Seven of Nine had no trouble applying her full attention to her work. Concentration came naturally to her, as did multi-tasking.  
  
Today was different.  
  
The conversation she’d had with Admiral Janeway over lunch the previous week continued to play through her memory. The admiral had probed for information regarding Maja Hansen’s psychiatric condition, about which Seven knew little. Janeway had then stunned her by relaying a rumour that Maja Hansen had given birth a quarter-century ago, soon after she’d been hospitalised.  
  
The child, if it had ever existed, would be an adult now, Seven mused. Her second cousin. Strange, how curious she was about this possible relative; once, she’d thought family was irrelevant. Her adopted family on _Voyager_ , and later, her Aunt Irene, had taught her differently.  
  
Seven had admitted to Admiral Janeway that she had no knowledge of Maja’s alleged child, but had promised to investigate. She had mentioned it to Harry that night, but their conversation had taken a philosophical turn about their own potential children, and then he’d kissed her, and Seven’s mind had no longer been on Kathryn Janeway or Maja Hansen.  
  
“Seven of Nine?”  
  
“Yes?” Seven turned from her console.  
  
The woman who’d addressed her came forward into the lab, hand held out for Seven to clasp. “I’m Vela Marquez, aide to President Zife.”  
  
Seven gave the woman her full attention. “How can I help you?”  
  
Marquez’s eyes strayed to the holographic display behind Seven’s head, which showed a simulation of the optronic relays that powered the new, enhanced astrometric sensors. “The president has asked for a status update on your sensor technology. How soon will it be ready to install in the remainder of the _Hawking_ -class fleet?”  
  
“The arrays are being installed in each ship as it is constructed,” Seven answered. “Completion of the fleet is scheduled for this coming December, but If President Zife is displeased with our progress, perhaps he should address it with the Utopia Planitia shipyard.”  
  
“That won’t be necessary.” Marquez hitched a hip onto Seven’s console, leaning in confidentially. “To be honest, the president Is mostly worried that by the time the fleet is ready to head for the Beta quadrant, we won’t have enough dilithium left to launch them.”  
  
“Why would there be a dilithium shortage?” Seven frowned at her. “It’s my understanding that the Federation has just purchased the rights to a mine in the Dorvan system, and there are several mines around the Borderlands in active production.”  
  
“You seem well-informed, Miss, uh, Nine.” Vela studied her manicured fingernails. “I suppose you’re aware of the political situation in the Borderlands. The Orion Syndicate is less than pleased with Starfleet’s presence along their trade routes.”  
  
“You may address me as Seven.” She cocked her head, studying the other woman. “Are you implying the Orions intend to restrict the Federation supply lines?”  
  
Marquez offered her a disingenuous smile. “Let’s just say the president is keen to ensure we find other, less disputed sources of essential minerals.”  
  
Seven’s frown deepened and she was about to question the woman further, when Harry came around from behind the half-wall between his office and Seven’s. Marquez straightened up, eyeing him with interest.  
  
“You must be Commander Kim.”  
  
Harry offered a hand. “Pleased to meet you. Did I hear you say you’re from President Zife’s office?”  
  
“Vela Marquez.” She clasped his hand and released it. “I understand you’re partly responsible for the design of these sensor arrays. Tell me, Commander, from what distance can they effectively detect mineral deposits?”  
  
“The sensors can pick up a wide range of resonance frequencies, crystalline or otherwise, from a distance of up to three sectors of space,” Kim answered. “Is there really expected to be a dilithium shortage, Ms Marquez? Will it affect Starfleet operations on a wider scale?”  
  
“I’m sure there’s really nothing to worry about, Commander.” Vela pushed off from Seven’s console and moved toward the door, high heels clacking. “Keep me apprised of your progress, won’t you? President’s orders.”  
  
She disappeared, and Harry turned to Seven with a frown.  
  
“If the president wants to know what our sensors can do, he should have arranged to find out through Admiral Shanthi,” he stated. “Why wouldn’t he come through the usual channels for information?”  
  
Seven shrugged. “I wouldn’t care to speculate.”  
  
“Maybe not, but I would,” Harry muttered. “I bet Tom would, too.”  
  
“Commander,” Seven cautioned, “perhaps this isn’t a matter for idle speculation.”  
  
“You’re right, Consultant.” Harry smiled at her. “I’ll inform Admiral Shanthi. But that doesn’t mean I can’t do a little poking around on my own time, does it?”  
  
Seven looked thoughtful. “Ms Marquez mentioned the Orions are displeased by Starfleet’s presence in the Borderlands,” she murmured. “Perhaps Captain Tuvok can offer more information. He was stationed there until recently.”  
  
Harry’s eyes sharpened. “Even better, what about someone who’s out there right now?” he suggested. “Maybe it’s time you tried to get in touch with Chakotay again.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Though she’d never spoken with her before, Kathryn would have recognised the woman on the other side of the comm screen even without her distinctive facial tattoo.  
  
“Sekaya,” she blurted, then immediately, through a throat suddenly tight with fear, “Is Chakotay all right?”  
  
Sekaya’s eyes expressed a dozen different emotions before settling on satisfaction. ~I _knew_ it,~ she muttered. ~Just friends, my ass. No, Admiral, he’s fine,~ she went on hastily as Kathryn shifted in anguish. ~He’s an idiot, but he’s fine.~  
  
“Thank God,” Kathryn breathed, then, “I’m sorry, we haven’t properly met. But I feel like I know you. Chakotay always spoke so highly of you.”  
  
~Likewise.~ Sekaya’s smile revealed dimples that made Kathryn’s heart constrict. ~That’s why I’m contacting you, Admiral.~  
  
“Please call me Kathryn.”  
  
The dimples deepened. ~I’m honoured, Kathryn.~  
  
“So, what can I do for you?”  
  
~You can tell me what you know about the Federation buying up the rights to the dilithium mine on my planet.~  
  
Kathryn’s mouth twisted. “I only just heard about it, Sekaya. I don’t know what to say.”  
  
_It’s deplorable_ , she wanted to rail, but she couldn’t. All her life she’d worked toward becoming a Starfleet admiral so she could use her authority to help people. And now that she wore the stars, she couldn’t even speak freely, let alone wield her power. Hell, she didn’t _have_ any power.  
  
Sekaya was under no such limitations. ~I’ll tell you what to say,~ she offered. ~You can inform that president of yours that not every Treban is as willing to bow to pressure as the ruling council seems to be. The councillors might be old and tired of fighting, but plenty of us are ready.~  
  
“Fighting?” Kathryn stared at her. “Sekaya, are you in danger?”  
  
~I’m fine. But I’m worried about my idiot brother.~  
  
Kathryn managed to curb her reaction this time. “Why?” she asked cautiously.  
  
~Because when I spoke with him yesterday he wasn't acting like himself. I think he’s in some kind of trouble.~ Sekaya chewed her bottom lip, eyeing Kathryn thoughtfully. Apparently satisfied, she continued, ~I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that?~  
  
Kathryn stared back at her and wondered if Sekaya would be as good at reading what she didn’t say out loud as her brother always had been.  
  
“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” she told the other woman. “But I’m sending you my private comm frequency and access code. Use it any time if you ever need to get in touch with me.”  
  
Sekaya’s expression flickered with gratitude as Kathryn encoded and transmitted the frequency. ~Thank you, Kathryn,~ she murmured. ~And I hope we meet in person someday.~  
  
“So do I,” Kathryn said softly, signing off.  
  
She eased back in her desk chair, twisting the heavy diamond ring on her finger and frowning unseeingly at the blank screen. She’d known about the mine on Trebus since she’d returned from the Ajilon conference, her curiosity fired by the warning from Tered, the Orion. But now that the Federation had laid claim to it, something didn’t sit right.  
  
She thought back to Tered’s words, that night on Ajilon Prime.  
  
_Tell Councillor Austin to look after his own empire or we’ll take everything he has, including his profitable little investment on Trebus._  
  
“Computer,” Kathryn said slowly, feeling for the words as she spoke them, “display all current information pertaining to the Dorvan system. Cross-reference with any news items regarding Councillor Ryan Austin or Trans-Quadrant Express.”  
  
_Files found_ , the computer informed her. There was a chirp and data began to scroll onto her screen.  
  
“Stop,” Kathryn ordered. “Play most recent file.”  
  
The file was a news clipping, dated from – Kathryn checked her chronometer – less than fifteen minutes earlier. A young Andorian female appeared on the screen; Kathryn recognised her as the trade affairs correspondent for one of the independent news organisations. She stood in front of the Palais de la Concorde, leaning confidentially into the camera, her antennae vibrating with excitement as she spoke.

> _At 0900 hours local time today, President Zife announced strict new sanctions against the Orion Syndicate and the Ferengi Trade Consortium,_ the reporter said quickly. _The recent trade deals with Midrian, Japori and a number of other Borderlands planets, brokered by Admiral Kathryn Janeway of USS_ Voyager _fame, have strengthened the Federation’s foothold in the region, which is renowned for producing over sixty percent of the Federation’s raw dilithium resources, as well as other critical materials._

A graphic of the Dorvan system appeared in the corner of the screen and zoomed out to display its position relative to Earth. The reporter continued:

> _The president also announced that exclusive mining rights have been negotiated with the inhabitants of Trebus for the newly-discovered dilithium source on their planet. Strict limitations on interstellar merchant travel along trade routes between the Sol system and the Cardassian Union have also been imposed, with licenses for courier and supply services being awarded only after intensive scrutiny by the Federation Trade Council. At the time of reporting, licenses had been temporarily awarded to a number of small courier fleets, all of whom appear to be affiliated with Trans-Quadrant Express._

The image on screen switched to stock footage from a black-tie dinner Kathryn and Ryan had attended several days earlier. Kathryn saw herself, standing on the wide steps of a grand hotel in stilettos and a strappy, silky dress, a fixed smile barely concealing her headache as her husband addressed a paparazzo. Ryan looked smug and handsome in his dinner suit, his hand splayed possessively over Kathryn’s bared lower back.

> _Neither Admiral Janeway nor her husband Ryan Austin, the Federation councillor for trade and owner-operator of TQE, could be reached for comment._

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Kathryn swore aloud, slamming her palm down on the console to shut it off. She shot to her feet, ignoring the increased pounding in her head, and strode to the door. Yanking it open, she found her aide – the immediate, tangible object of her ire – directly in her path, a padd in one hand.  
  
“Admiral,” Jens exclaimed. “I was just coming to see you –”  
  
“Let me guess,” Kathryn seethed. “It’s about a statement President Zife issued half an hour ago and the subsequent news reports which _heavily_ imply that I’m complicit in manipulating the political and economic situation in the Borderlands to benefit my husband’s merchant company.”  
  
“You know.”  
  
“What’s more important,” she glared, “is why you _didn’t_ know. Apparently, at least one newscaster has tried unsuccessfully to reach this office for comment. You should have been the one to field those calls, Lieutenant. Care to explain?”  
  
“Ma’am, I never received any calls.” For a moment, Tora looked as furious as Kathryn felt. “It seems Admiral Kjogo ordered all incoming communications diverted to her office this morning.”  
  
“ _Did_ she?” Kathryn couldn’t suppress her growl in response to that. She moved menacingly toward Jens and the younger woman side-stepped hastily. “This is the final straw,” she hissed as she pushed past.  
  
“Admiral, where are you going?” Jens’ voice rose in alarm.  
  
“Where do you think I’m going?” Kathryn shot over her shoulder. “I’m going to register my formal protest with Admiral Kjogo, and then I’m going to find the nearest journalist and let them have the _real_ story.”  
  
Jens bolted after her, almost spinning Kathryn around with a firm hand on her arm. “No, ma’am, you’re not,” she said emphatically, and when Kathryn turned to berate her, wide-eyed, Jens grasped her by both shoulders and ducked her head to catch and hold Kathryn’s gaze, pitching her voice low and soothing. “You don’t want to do that,” she said. “It’s not wise.”  
  
_No_ , Kathryn thought, resisting Jens’ soft, hypnotic murmur. _No, this isn’t right_.  
  
Nausea rose in her throat and she swayed, putting a hand to her suddenly splitting head.  
  
Jens moved long, cool fingers up to cup her jaw, spreading them into points around the curve of Kathryn’s skull. “Please trust me,” she continued, the cadence of her voice sinking into Kathryn’s bones and loosening muscle and sinew. “It’s better for everyone if you stay out of this.”  
  
Kathryn stopped struggling and gazed back into her aide’s blue eyes. She felt the headache ease, felt her mind clear.  
  
_Tora’s right_ , she thought, _I should calm down. Antagonising Kjogo won’t help anyone_.  
  
It all seemed so simple, so obvious.  
  
“That’s better,” Jens smiled. “Why don’t you sit down, Admiral? I’ll bring you a cup of tea.”  
  
As she released her hold and turned away, Kathryn glimpsed the expression that crossed her aide’s face, and wondered why she read guilt and regret before Jens’ features smoothed out again.  
  


* * *

  
  
~Red alert,~ came the urgent voice of Commander Sereni, Chakotay’s first officer, over the comm. ~Captain to the bridge.~  
  
“Report,” Chakotay bit out as he hastened form the turbolift to his chair, immediately pulling up the flow of data from the various bridge consoles.  
  
His tactical officer hurried to reply. “Sir, an Orion interceptor just dropped out of warp and fired a phaser shot across our bow. It’s Captain Tered’s vessel.”  
  
“Hail them.”  
  
“They’re responding.”  
  
The big Orion who stared at Chakotay through the viewscreen was not wearing his usual supercilious smile.  
  
“Captain Tered,” Chakotay addressed him coolly. “Why have you fired at us?”  
  
~That was a warning shot, Captain. Vacate this sector immediately or the next time I fire at you, I won’t miss.~  
  
“We’ve been through this before, Mr Tered.” Chakotay rose, keeping his stance relaxed and his tone calm. “The Orion Syndicate doesn’t have sole claim to the Yaraka sector. Starfleet has every right to be here.”  
  
~Not anymore,~ Tered retorted. ~The Yaraka system and its neighbours, Trialas and Turkana, are now under Orion protection. If your fleet does not commence a retreat to Federation space within the next ten minutes, we will open fire.~  
  
“For what reason?” Chakotay asked, frowning.  
  
He and Tered had been doing this dance for two months now, but the Orion had never threatened him so openly before. He wondered what had changed.  
  
~Perhaps you haven’t yet been informed. Your president has announced his intent to interfere with Syndicate operations in this sector. He’s trying to shut us down. _That_ is the reason.~ Tered showed his teeth. ~Now, move your little ship out of my way or I will blast you out of the sky.~  
  
_Zife wants to cut the Orions out of the sector?_ Chakotay’s blood chilled.  
  
Outwardly, he simply raised his eyebrows. “Your ship might be large, Captain, but it’s no match for sixteen of ours.”  
  
~I see only one Starfleet vessel, Captain Chakotay,~ Tered answered smugly. ~And by the time your fleet comes to your rescue, we’ll have obliterated you.~  
  
Chakotay held up his hands. “We can resolve this peacefully, Tered. Why don’t you beam over to my ship and we can –”  
  
He cut himself off as a warning light on his console began to blink.  
  
“Lieutenant?” he snapped, turning to his operations offer.  
  
The young Grazerite muted the comm line. “Captain, I’m detecting ten – no, twelve Orion vessels on approach, all with weapons powered.” He paused. Anxiety coloured his voice as he added, “Reports are coming in from the _Ripley_ and the _Lily Sloane_. Sir, they’re under attack!”  
  
“Channel on,” Chakotay growled, turning back to the viewscreen, where the Orion had risen to his feet, his expression thunderous. “Captain Tered, what’s the meaning of this? Why have you attacked my fleet?”  
  
~You have that backward, Captain,~ snarled Tered. ~Your people fired first. We simply defended ourselves.~  
  
Chakotay shook his head in disbelief. “If that’s true, let’s end it here. Stand down your weapons and we can each tend to our wounded.”  
  
~No more talking,~ the Orion roared, and cut the channel.  
  
“Shields to full,” Chakotay ordered immediately, taking his seat and thumbing the comm open. “All hands, this is the captain. Secure your stations and prepare for battle –”  
  
Before he could complete his order the _Zapata_ was pummelled with a volley of torpedoes so powerful that within minutes they’d lost shields, weapons and engines. Ensign Trabin did her best to manoeuvre the crippled ship through an asteroid field on thrusters only, but another barrage from the Orion interceptor took their deflector offline and the structural integrity field began to collapse.  
  
Consoles exploded throughout the bridge, the cries of the wounded muted by the shrieking of alarms and the deep _boom_ of torpedoes impacting the hull. Chakotay’s ops officer reported hull breaches on three decks immediately before he was knocked unconscious by a percussive impact that began deep in the ship’s bowels.  
  
The magnetic interlock system failed, sending superheated plasma racing through one of the Jeffries tubes, igniting the main EPS conduit and belching foul-smelling fire onto the bridge. Two crewmen were caught in the blast. By the time Sereni leapt from her chair to tend to them, they were dead.  
  
And then the assistant chief engineer commed the bridge – it was a miracle the comm system was still working – to report that the warp core was destabilising and she couldn’t shut it down, and when Chakotay asked after the chief engineer she told him that Lieutenant Sklaar and three other engineers had been taken to sickbay with devastating plasma burns.  
  
The attack had been so swift and so brutal that the _Zapata_ hadn’t managed to fire a single shot.  
  
With nine of his sixty-strong crew reported dead and another dozen critically injured, Chakotay allowed himself only a fraction of a moment to grieve the imminent loss of both his people and his first Starfleet command, and ordered all hands to abandon ship.  
  
“You too, Ensign Trabin,” he roared, realising the young woman was still fighting to keep the _Zapata_ on an even keel. “Get to an escape pod. Now.”  
  
Reluctantly, she locked the helm into autopilot. “What about you, sir?” she shouted over the increasing whine of strained metal.  
  
“I’ll be right behind you.”  
  
She nodded, disappearing into a Jeffries tube just as the lateral bridge stations shrieked in a chain reaction of energy build-up and exploded into flames.  
  
As he vaulted the railing behind his chair and bolted after his helmsman, Chakotay didn’t see the beam falling from the buckling ceiling, and he never felt the impact as it crashed into his left shoulder and pinned him to the deck.  
  


* * *

  
  
Kathryn ordered a hypospray and an extra-strong black coffee and took them over to the couch below her office window, closing her eyes as she waited for the analgesic to do its work.  
  
Lieutenant Jens had left for the day; Kathryn had ordered her to get some rest, despite Jens’ half-hearted protests, pointing out that the lieutenant had spent the past eight hours running interference with the media. Now that she was alone and Jens had diverted all incoming communications back to Admiral Kjogo’s office, Kathryn finally had time to think over the day’s events.  
  
The Federation News Service was downplaying the connection between Ryan’s company and the new trade licensing President Zife had ordered, but almost every other news channel was hyping it up. Kathryn couldn’t help shaking her head in disbelief; had Ryan really thought the media wouldn’t pick up on such a brazen conflict of interest?  
  
And how had she ended up caught in the middle of it?  
  
More to the point, why hadn’t she predicted this? Had she been so relieved that Kjogo was giving her meaningful work to do, so deeply under Ryan’s manipulative control, that she’d been unable to see those Borderlands trade deals for what they really were?  
  
_Shaping the future of the Federation_ , Kathryn scoffed to herself. M _ore like helping the Federation transform into an economic imperium_.  
  
She kneaded fiercely at the knots in her neck. It dismayed her deeply that not only had she married a man she now knew was using his political platform to broker shady deals for the Entera Coalition, but that she hadn’t realised what was really going on. Worse, she’d enabled it. She’d allowed him to use her to push his agenda. And now, because of _her_ trade negotiations with Midrian, Japori and the other Borderlands planets – because of _her_ public presence and implied endorsement of Ryan’s politics – because of _her_ obliviousness, Chakotay’s people were in trouble, and Chakotay’s life was in danger.  
  
Kathryn tipped her head back against the window and closed her eyes, replaying Sekaya’s concerns in her mind. _Chakotay isn’t acting like himself,_ she’d said. _I think he’s in some kind of trouble_.  
  
Chakotay’s ship was patrolling the Borderlands, walking the knife-edge between diplomacy and outright hostility with the Orion Syndicate. And President Zife had just announced his intention to cut the Syndicate out of that profitable, resource-rich sector.  
  
Not for the first time since she’d heard the newscast that morning, Kathryn’s stomach clenched with fear.  
  
_Be careful, Chakotay_ , she thought, wishing that somehow he could hear her. _And come back to me_.  
  
There was a polite cough, and Kathryn’s head jerked up, cooling coffee splashing onto her hand. A man was sitting on the edge of her desk. He wore a neatly-tailored, dark-grey suit and a slight smile.  
  
Kathryn lurched to her feet, her hand immediately at her hip, seeking a weapon that wasn’t there.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry, Admiral Janeway,” said the man. “I’m not here to hurt you.”  
  
She eyed him: human, average height, slight build; medium-brown hair and hazel eyes. Nondescript and unassuming-looking.  
  
But something warned her that despite appearances, she wouldn’t best him in hand-to-hand combat.  
  
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded harshly. “What are you doing here?”  
  
The neat, slender man smiled at her. “You can call me Jonah Miles,” he replied. “As to why I’m here, that may take a little time to explain.”  
  
He gestured her to a seat. Kathryn remained standing and folded her arms, glaring at him. Miles gave a small shrug.  
  
“To begin with,” he said, “I work for an organisation known as Section 31. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of us?”


	17. Darkest Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been forever, and I'm sorry! But I'm committed to finishing this story, so the only things that will distract me before the end are the two fics I'm writing for the [Merry Month of Cohen](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/merrymonthofcohen/profile), and one's almost ready to go anyway.
> 
> If you need a quick recap of the story so far, you might find [this post](https://mia-cooper.tumblr.com/post/184397895963/whos-ready-for-some-more-desperate-measures) handy.
> 
> Onward! And thanks for sticking with me through the long hiatus.

And how can we win when fools can be kings  
Don't waste your time  
Or time will waste you  
– Muse, _Knights of Cydonia_

* * *

 

 ** _Chapter Sixteen: Darkest Days_**  
_September, 2379_

 

“Whoever you are,” Kathryn Janeway growled, “I want you out of my office _now_.”  
  
The man remained exactly where he was, leaning casually against the edge of her desk as though he owned it. “Jonah Miles,” he repeated patiently. “And I’m afraid I can’t oblige, Admiral.”  
  
“Then you’d better talk fast.” She reached into a pocket and pulled out her personal transport device, holding it up to show him. “One voice command and I’m gone, so make it good, Mr Miles.”  
  
“Very well.” The man looked amused. “My organisation has wide-ranging authority to seek out and neutralise threats to Federation security. We have representatives in the civilian population – like myself – as well as throughout Starfleet ranks, whom we task with gathering intelligence, monitoring risk and, when necessary, mitigating it. We are –”  
  
“Wait. Wait just a moment.” Kathryn’s hand strayed to her temple. “Mr Miles, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Starfleet Intelligence –”  
  
“– is hampered by scrutiny and its necessary adherence to the Federation Charter. Section 31 has no such limitations. Admiral,” his voice rose as she started to object, “I’m sure you’re utterly scandalised, but perhaps you’ll do me the courtesy of allowing me to finish and save your questions for the end?”  
  
With difficulty, Kathryn shut her mouth and gave him a short nod.  
  
“Thank you. Now, as you’re aware, your husband and President Zife have just manoeuvred us into an adversarial position against the Orion Syndicate. You’re also aware of the rise of a merchant organisation with political and economic ties to all the major quadrant powers, known as the Entera Coalition.”  
  
He waited, clearly watching her expression; Kathryn tried to keep it blank, but judging by the smug light in his eyes, she failed.  
  
“My agency has been concerned about Entera for some time. We’d sent a number of covert agents to penetrate it but until recently, we’d had little success. Your former first officer changed that.”  
  
Kathryn sucked in a sharp breath. “Chakotay? He’s –”  
  
“A Section 31 agent. Yes.” Miles pushed off the edge of the desk. “A very effective one, as it turns out. Representatives of our agency are required to demonstrate a certain … ruthlessness in getting to the truth. They’re encouraged to use any and all resources available to them. Colleagues. Friends.” He moved a step closer. “Lovers.”  
  
It took a beat. But when his meaning curled into her heart and took hold, Kathryn couldn’t stifle the small, pained sound that issued from her lips.  
  
Jonah Miles did her the courtesy of averting his eyes from her shocked, white face. “However, Captain Chakotay’s cover requires that he maintain his post as commander of the border force in the Yaraka sector, which means he currently has little opportunity to investigate Entera’s inner circle. You, however, have the perfect opportunity.”  
  
She was still shaking from the impact of Miles’ emotional blow, and her head was thudding, and she felt as though her foundations had crumbled beneath her. “What do you mean?” she managed faintly.  
  
“Your husband, Admiral. I’m sure you were devastated to learn of Councillor Austin’s involvement with the Entera Coalition. It didn’t escape our notice that while you’ve remained married to him, you were living separately until a couple of months ago. Still, it puts you in a useful position.”  
  
“To do what?”  
  
“To gather intelligence. We need to identify Entera’s entire power base and find out what they plan to do next.” He stepped closer. “We want you to work for us, Admiral.”  
  
Kathryn couldn’t help her incredulous laugh. “You want me to work for a secret agency I’d never heard of until tonight?”  
  
“If you’d never heard of us, clearly we’re doing our job, aren’t we?”  
  
“But your very existence contravenes the principles on which the Federation is founded –”  
  
“Then it’s fortunate that we don’t exist.” He smiled without humour.  
  
“Sophistry, Mr Miles,” she grated. “In any case, how do I know I can trust you?”  
  
“You don’t. But if Entera continue to expand their influence – if they gain control over the Romulan government, for example, or the Klingon Empire – the entire quadrant could be destabilised and the Federation as you know it may well cease to exist. Can you really take that kind of risk with the future of the Federation?”  
  
_The future of the Federation_. Kathryn stared at him. The first time she’d heard Ryan use that term she’d scoffed at it, thought it melodramatic. Hearing the same words from Owen Paris’ lips, and now from Jonah Miles’, it didn’t seem at all amusing anymore.  
  
“Use this to contact me whenever you have something to report,” Miles ordered, handing her a small holo-communication device.  
  
Kathryn studied it, lying in her palm like an inert grenade.  
  
“Is Owen Paris one of your agents?” she asked, looking up.  
  
A small smile appeared on his face. “For your own safety, Admiral, you’re better off not knowing the identities of our other agents. And be extremely careful whom you trust.”  
  
He turned for the door, then paused to glance back at her.  
  
“You should see a doctor about that headache,” Miles suggested, and then he was gone.  


* * *

  
  
_Captain? … hear me?_  
  
He was buried under thick layers of soil; it was in his ears and in his mouth, muffling both sound and breath. Somewhere, sunk beneath the surface of his awareness, there was pain and dread, but it was all so removed. So far away.  
  
_... help me get this beam off him. Careful … his spine …_  
  
There was a sense of pressure, as if he wore an EVA suit and someone was tugging at his sleeve. Voices wavered and coalesced; the quality of the light changed, and he felt an icy spill of panic bathing the back of his neck. Somebody cried out; was it him? He couldn’t tell.  
  
It didn’t matter anyway.  
  
_… hold on, Captain … have to move you …_  
  
Weightlessness, vertigo; his skin flying apart from his bones. Fire curled into his consciousness, streaking agony along his nerves. He screamed, but he couldn’t be sure he’d made a sound.  
  
_… the hatch … get him inside! Thirty seconds until warp core breach ..._  
  
The very air around him felt harsh on his skin. Was he on fire? He opened his eyes and saw nothing.  
  
_Ensign, hit the launch doors!_  
  
He felt the explosions in every single vertebra – a succession of deep, reverberating booms – and the agonising thrust of gravity as he and his nameless companions were catapulted into who-knew-where. Pain slammed into him and he shuddered and groaned.  
  
_Commander, he’s still conscious. Is he going to be all right?_  
  
_Just fly the pod, Trabin._  
  
“Kathryn ...”  
  
“No, Captain,” came the gentle reply, “it’s Commander Sereni. You’ve sustained serious injuries and we need to get you to the nearest medical facility.”  
  
“Ship,” he mumbled. “Status.”  
  
A pause.  
  
“Report,” he managed, thick and harsh, teeth gritted and tasting metal.  
  
“I’m sorry, Captain. The _Zapata_ is gone.” Sereni laid cool fingers on his hand. “Thirty-eight crew made it to the escape pods.”  
  
_Thirty-eight_. That was bad, he thought, but he wasn’t sure why. His mind felt viscid and sluggish. He knew this should concern him, but he couldn’t seem to hold onto that knowledge for more than a moment or two.  
  
“The Orions have retreated. I guess they made their point …”  
  
Sereni’s voice faded out and he blinked against the darkness, stomach churning lazily.  
  
“… twenty ccs terakine. That should help with the pain, if not knock him out,” he heard her saying.  
  
It took him several seconds to process the meaning of her words. “Hurts,” he muttered.  
  
“Yes, sir, but don’t worry. We’ll be docking with the _Mehit_ in a few minutes. I’m sure they’ll fix you up …”  
  
He felt the hiss of a hypospray and a cool wave of relief suffused his veins.  
  
“Wait,” he tried to speak, “important,” but it was too late. The hypospray had done its job, and Chakotay sank into the muffled, insensible dark.  


* * *

  
  
Rain clung persistently to Kathryn’s shoulders as she hurried across the gardens of Starfleet Headquarters toward the Turner Building. It was past 2200 hours, but she was banking that Owen Paris’ workaholic habits hadn't changed a great deal over the years she had known him.  
  
She was right.  
  
“Kathryn,” he greeted her as she entered his office, a smile breaking across his face that quickly turned into a frown. “Are you all right?”  
  
“Do you have a moment, sir?”  
  
At her uncharacteristic hesitancy, Paris rose and came over to guide her to a seat. “I always have time for you, Katie. Now, talk to me. Is it the news reports?”  
  
Her hand strayed to rub at her temple. “I’m not sure if I – maybe I shouldn’t –”  
  
Owen’s eyes sharpened. “Hold on,” he said, and strode over to tap a few buttons on his console. “You can speak freely now,” he told her, returning to the couch.  
  
She gave a bitter laugh. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to speak freely again.”  
  
Paris’ frown deepened and he opened his mouth to question her.  
  
“Forget it,” Kathryn mumbled. “Owen – what do you know about the president’s new trade sanctions?”  
  
“Not as much as I should,” he admitted grimly. “The president kept his cards close to his chest on this one.”  
  
“I suspect he was advised to do so.” Kathryn’s fingers pressed circles at the edges of her skull, trying to relieve the worsening pain. “It’s obvious that Ryan and Admiral Kjogo have been planning this for some time. I can’t _believe_ I didn’t figure out what they were doing. Worse, I _helped_ them. I’ve let Kjogo manipulate me into pushing her trade agenda and I’ve let Ryan use me for publicity and –”  
  
She broke off, biting back the confession that shamed her.  
  
“Kathryn, forgive me,” Owen said gently when she fell silent, “but five months ago when I told you to go back to your life and pretend you knew nothing about the Entera Coalition, I didn’t mean go back to a marriage that makes you so unhappy, and dare I say it, unwell. Don’t try to deny it,” his voice rose slightly as she objected, “a blind man could see how badly your head is hurting. You have a headache almost every time I see you these days. What does your doctor say?”  
  
Despite herself, Kathryn’s shoulders tensed. “I haven’t – it’s nothing –”  
  
Paris’ voice was soft and shocked. “If you haven’t sought medical attention, Kathryn –”  
  
He was interrupted by the harsh beeping of his communications console.  
  
“Hold that thought,” Paris muttered, raising a finger to indicate she should stay silent as he turned the comm terminal to face him. “Paris here.”  
  
~Sir, I have an incoming transmission from Captain O’Leary on the USS _Mehit_ ,~ Paris’ aide informed him. ~It’s flagged priority one, sir. Admirals’ eyes only.~  
  
“Put her through,” Paris ordered, blue eyes flickering upward to meet Kathryn’s as she moved closer.  
  
“Should I leave?” she mouthed.  
  
“You’re an admiral, aren’t you?” he smiled at her. “You can stay.”  
  
A moment later, the terminal came to life again and Paris straightened.  
  
“Captain O’Leary,” he greeted. “Report.”  
  
~Admiral Paris.~  
  
Kathryn had never met the woman Paris was speaking to, and couldn’t see her face, but she knew the sound of bad news coming. Unknowingly, her fingers found the edge of Paris’ desk and clenched on it tightly.  
  
~As you know, the _Mehit_ has been conducting field tests of our new sensor arrays in the Borderlands this past week,~ O’Leary was saying. ~We detected weapons fire in the Trialas system and proceeded to investigate, but before we could reach Trialas, we received a number of distress calls from several escape pods located in the Yaraka system. The distress calls were all encoded with Starfleet signatures. We altered course to retrieve the pods and discovered thirty-eight survivors from the USS _Zapata_ , which was, I’m sorry to report, completely destroyed.~  
  
She heard the words, but there was a thick layer of protective wadding between her and the sharp reality of them. Kathryn stared at her own whitening knuckles as her fingers gripped the edge of the desk in front of her. There seemed to be a faint, whining echo in her ears.  
  
“… report on Captain Chakotay’s status?” she heard Paris ask.  
  
~… gravely injured … surgery to repair internal organs … fortunate he survived at all … wouldn’t care to speculate on his prognosis, I’m afraid.~  
  
“Thank you, Captain,” Paris said quietly. Kathryn could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the lines and whorls across her own knuckles. “Anything else?”  
  
~Yes, sir, and this is something I find difficult to believe despite hard evidence, but it seems that Starfleet fired first.~  
  
“ _What_?” Paris’ gaze snapped back to the vidscreen.  
  
~Our sensors indicate that the USS _Ripley_ was the first to launch a quantum torpedo at one of the Orion vessels in the Trialas system. Unfortunately, she was destroyed with all hands, as were the USS _Lily Sloane_ and the enemy combatants, and so far there’s no trace of the black boxes from either of our ships.~  
  
“Understood. Captain, I’m going to have to cut you off there. I’ll expect your full report shortly. Paris out.”  
  
He cut the channel, rising immediately to bolt around his desk and grasp Kathryn’s upper arms.  
  
“Kathryn,” he said firmly, loudly. “Can you hear me? Sit down, now,” and she felt him put his arm around her and guide her to a chair.  
  
She tried to follow his instructions – _breathe in, slow, easy, out_ – but her heart was beating so quickly, her hands trembling so badly, and there was a grey blur behind her eyes and she thought she might throw up. And then, suddenly, there seemed to be so many people in the room, and somebody was crouching beside her and speaking to her soothingly – _Admiral, can you hear me? It’s Tom Paris. I’m going to give you a hypospray, all right? Just some analgesic and a mild sedative_ – and there was a hiss and a sensation of spreading cool, and the thundering of her heart began to slow and the nausea to abate, and the pounding, sickening roar in her head receded to a dull, manageable ache behind her eyes.  
  
“Tom,” she said thickly, “what are you doing here?”  
  
“Happy coincidence,” he answered. “Feeling better?”  
  
Despite herself Kathryn’s heart twisted in agony, and it must have shown on her face, because Tom’s eyes widened in alarm.  
  
“Admiral?” he asked, a hand on her shoulder, then when she buried her face in her hands, “Dad, what the hell’s going on?”  
  
“I’m sorry, Tom,” she heard Owen answer. “Captain Chakotay’s ship was attacked. He’s in critical condition in the _Mehit_ ’s sickbay.”  
  
Tom sucked in a breath. “I’ll comm Harry,” he said after a moment. “He and Seven are on the _Mehit_. They’ll make sure he’s getting the best care.”  
  
Kathryn raised her head to look at him. “Thank you.”  
  
“Speaking of care, Admiral, how long have you been having these headaches?”  
  
She shut her mouth. Over her head, she saw Tom exchange a glance with his father.  
  
“All right,” the younger Paris conceded, “you’re under no obligation to share your medical status with me, but –” he hesitated.  
  
“But,” Paris senior continued, “as your superior officer, I can order you to seek attention for any medical condition that appears to be negatively impacting on your ability to function.”  
  
Kathryn remained silent.  
  
Tom sighed. “Can I at least scan you?”  
  
“No,” said Kathryn frostily.  
  
“Then let me call Doc –”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Cap- I mean, Admiral…”  
  
“ _No_ ,” she snapped. “No doctors. No scans. Just _leave me alone_!”  
  
Two pairs of near-identical blue eyes stared at her as her desperate, panicked shriek echoed in the room.  
  
“Tom,” Admiral Paris said eventually, “would you excuse us, please?”  
  
“Call me if you need me,” Tom answered, striding to the door. He stopped for one last, worried glance back at Kathryn, then disappeared.  
  
“All right, Katie,” Owen said mildly when they were alone, “are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to keep trying to guess?”

 

* * *

  
  
“… received a subspace communication from your sister, Sekaya, at 2214 hours, enquiring after your health. It’s difficult to impart an uncertain prognosis such as yours, Chakotay, especially to a family member so far away. Sekaya seemed particularly distressed that the two of you had argued when you last spoke … Chakotay? Are you awake?”  
  
“Seven?”  
  
 He tried to swallow. His throat was so dry, so dry –  
  
Cool water trickled over his parched lips, so welcome it was almost painful, and he grasped for it with tongue and gums. A few drops eked their way into his throat and he coughed, and that was worse.  
  
“Allow me to help you.”  
  
A strong, slender hand slid under his neck, carefully easing his head up at just the right angle. He drank thirstily; the straw was pulled away, and he groaned a wordless complaint.  
  
“You inhaled a great deal of smoke and your oesophagus and pharynx are swollen. You must be careful.”  
  
He thought about choking, and coughing, and how much that would hurt, and decided she was right.  
  
Seven lowered him carefully back to the pillow. After a long moment, Chakotay slitted open his eyes. The room was dim, but there was enough light to identify it as a sickbay, and enough to read the anxiety in Seven’s blue eyes.  
  
“What,” his voice scratched in his throat, and he paused to try again, “what are you doing here?”  
  
“You’re on the USS _Mehit_ ,” she began. “We were performing field tests in the region when we received your distress call.”  
  
“My ship –” Chakotay cut himself off.  
  
_The Orions_ , he remembered. _The_ Zapata _destroyed. Thirty-eight survivors_.  
  
_The_ Ripley _fired first_.  
  
And he knew why.  
  
“Get me a comm device,” he gasped, trying to push himself upright on the bio-bed.  
  
“Chakotay, you have to rest –”  
  
“That’s –” he stopped to cough, “that’s an order.”  
  
Seven’s brow creased. “Yes, Captain,” she said, and disappeared from his bedside.  
  
A moment later she was back, with a blue-jacketed Trill in tow. “I’m Dr Neve,” she informed Chakotay. “Your condition is very serious, Captain, and you’ve just come out of major surgery. I can’t recommend –”  
  
“Save it,” he cut her off, motioning Seven forward.  
  
Reluctantly, Seven placed a communication unit in his outstretched hand.  
  
“Thanks,” Chakotay muttered, falling back against the pillow. “I need privacy.”  
  
They both stared at him.  
  
“Please,” he said, pointedly.  
  
“You have five minutes,” Dr Neve told him, turning on her heel. Seven followed her with only a silent backward glance.  
  
He was already feeling the pull of exhaustion and pain as he debated his options: Owen Paris, or Jonah Miles? The information he had to impart was vital to Federation security. He desperately wanted to hand it over to Starfleet Intelligence, not Section 31, but this comm unit was incapable of generating the kind of dispersal field he needed to guarantee his signal was kept secure, and he couldn’t be sure that Paris had the necessary encoding equipment in his office.  
  
Miles, however, kept that kind of covert gear to hand, and had the wherewithal to wipe out any trace of Chakotay’s communication with him as soon as they’d cut the connection.  
  
He opened a channel to Jonah Miles.  
  
~Captain.~ For perhaps the first time in their acquaintance, Chakotay thought, he’d surprised the man. ~Forgive me for saying so, but you look like hell.~  
  
“Secure this line,” Chakotay ordered him gruffly.  
  
~Done,~ Miles responded. ~What do you have for me?~  
  
“The _Ripley_ started that battle,” Chakotay said. “The tactical officer was Entera. I’d bet my life he was under orders to incite a war and make it look like the Orions started it.”  
  
~Interesting,~ murmured Miles. ~And quite a coincidence, coming so soon after President Zife’s sanctions against our green-skinned friends.~  
  
“My point exactly.” Chakotay stared at him.  
  
Miles’ eyes narrowed. ~Are you suggesting that President Zife is Entera?~  
  
“He’s spent the past year making territorial deals with the Borderlands planets, his Starfleet liaison is Ube Mekas, and he’s just given an insanely lucrative trade route to Ryan Austin,” Chakotay pressed his lips together to stifle a cough. “You do the math, Miles.”  
  
Jonah was silent for a moment, then said smoothly, ~Thank you for your service, Captain. You’ve been quite useful.~  
  
“That’s it?” Chakotay croaked. “No new mission?”  
  
~I expect you’ll be out of commission for some time.~ Miles gestured vaguely at him. ~That looks painful. I should leave you to rest -~  
  
“Wait,” Chakotay tried to sit up and groaned in pain, “what about Trebus? What about Kathryn?”  
  
But he was talking to a dead black screen.  


* * *

  
  
As with every other painful secret she’d ever had to reveal in her life, Kathryn knew the only way to get through it was as quickly and as bluntly as possible.  
  
“Ryan’s mother was Deltan – a fact he’s apparently managed to conceal from everyone – and he has shown no scruples about using the abilities he inherited from her. I discovered that he was married once before, and the effect his … biology … had on his previous wife meant that she was confined to a psychiatric institution for the rest of her life. And I believe,” she swallowed hard, forced the words out, “my headaches are a symptom of the same physiological cause. He manipulated me into marrying him and used the publicity from that to kickstart his political career, and he’s still manipulating me.”  
  
Owen Paris’ face was blank, an utter lack of expression that Kathryn knew meant he was struggling to conceal powerful emotions.  
  
“Manipulating you?” he repeated carefully. “How, exactly?”  
  
“Psychologically. Emotionally.” She refused to look away. “Sexually.”  
  
“Kathryn.”  
  
She stood, pacing the floor. “Whatever he has done or is doing to me, it pales in comparison to his involvement in this mercantile conspiracy. And I can’t stand by and allow my husband to warp the Federation into something I’m ashamed of. Not when it’s within my power to help stop it.” She stopped in front of Paris, who had risen to his feet. “So I’m sorry, Admiral, but I’m afraid I have to disobey your orders. I have no intention of staying out of this.”  
  
His eyes softened. “What are you suggesting?”  
  
“I’m already on the inside,” she answered, chin raised. “I’m working at getting him to trust me again. As soon as he lowers his guard, I’ll start looking for evidence.”  
  
“Of what, exactly?”  
  
“Of whatever he’s planning, and whoever’s in on it with him,” Kathryn replied. “You told me yourself that Entera has spies throughout Starfleet. And that you don’t know how high the conspiracy goes.”  
  
“Kathryn…” Owen rubbed his forehead. “You’re not trained for covert operations, and you definitely can’t do this alone.”  
  
“I learned a few things in the Delta quadrant.” _And I won’t be alone_ , she thought, slipping a hand into her pocket to finger the communication device Jonah Miles had given her. “In any case, I won’t put anyone else in the line of fire.”  
  
“It’s too dangerous, and I’m still your commanding officer. It’s my duty to keep you safe.”  
  
“We’ve been down this road before, Owen,” she answered softly. “You know this is an argument you won’t win.”  
  
She watched the shared, agonising memory cloud his eyes.  
  
“Why do you think it’s so important to me that you make it out of this whole?” he asked her, his voice raw with decades of suppressed guilt and anguish. “I failed in my duty last time. I can’t –”  
  
“You didn’t,” she interrupted him. “I made my own choices then, and I’m making them now.”  
  
“This isn’t a choice anybody should have to make.”  
  
“No,” she agreed. “But I’m making it, anyway.”  


* * *

  
  
_Brave words_ , Kathryn thought ruefully, but they hadn't quite given her courage enough to face going home to her husband immediately after she left the Turner Building. Instead she went back to her own office.  
  
She was, somehow, unsurprised to find Jonah Miles waiting for her.  
  
“You’re in my chair,” she informed him coldly.  
  
He stood slowly, a smile twitching the corners of his lips. “My apologies, Admiral. I thought you might appreciate news of your erstwhile first officer.”  
  
Kathryn’s fists curled. “Chakotay? Is he all right?”  
  
“He’s recovering, though it’s hard to tell from his mood.”  
  
“What happened to him?”  
  
Miles slid a padd across her desk. “The full report from the _Mehit_ ’s CMO.”  
  
The words blurred before her eyes. “Summarise it, please,” she said harshly.  
  
“Suffice to say, Captain Chakotay’s internal and spinal injuries were extensive, but thanks to modern medicine he’ll make a full recovery.”  
  
At those words, Kathryn pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back the sound that wanted to escape.  
  
“Well,” said Miles, “now that that’s out of the way, Admiral, shall we get down to business?”  
  
“Business?” she repeated faintly, still trembling.  
  
The agent placed a small medical case on her desk and opened it, extracting a hypospray. He was standing at her side so quickly she wasn’t sure she’d even blinked, one hand wrapped around her upper arm, the other holding her chin, tilting it away from him to expose the side of her neck.  
  
Kathryn tried to jerk away and found she was completely unable to escape.  
  
“What the hell are you doing?” she growled, struggling.  
  
Miles held her still with ease. “This is a suppressant tailored specifically to dampen the effects of Deltan pheromones.”  
  
Kathryn’s spine chilled.  
  
“How did you know about that?” she whispered, twisting to read his eyes. “Did Chakotay tell you?”  
  
“Actually, no.” Jonah Miles looked faintly displeased. “It seems the good captain hasn’t been entirely forthcoming with me.”  
  
“Then how –” She cut herself off. “Oh my God. The communicator you gave me … it’s a listening device. I should have known …”  
  
Furious, she managed to yank herself free of his grasp.  
  
“How _dare_ you?” she hissed at him. “You invaded my privacy.”  
  
“Oh, spare me the melodrama, Admiral.” Miles leaned a hip against the edge of her desk, allowing the hypospray to dangle from his fingers. “I don’t care about your traumatic past or your dirty laundry unless it affects your ability to carry out your mission, which is why I’m here. So please, come here and take your medicine like a good girl.”  
  
It was only with the greatest difficulty that she refrained from leaping at his throat, and she trembled with the effort of holding back.  
  
“Let me put it this way,” Miles went on. “You’ve already made up your mind to carry out this mission for Section 31, Admiral, whatever it takes. You’re an intelligent woman, so you can be under no illusions as to exactly what you’ll be required to do. The more sexual contact you have with Councillor Austin, the more your body and mind will continue to be compromised. Eventually your system will be overwhelmed by the chemical and biological imbalance caused by the pheromone overload, and there will be no way to reverse the effects. You’ll be permanently incapacitated, most likely confined to a psychiatric institution for the remainder of your natural life – and that’s if you survive it at all. The headaches can grow so painful that some commit suicide rather than suffer them any longer.”  
  
He straightened up, holding out the hypospray.  
  
“Take the suppressant, Admiral. Please.”  
  
After a long moment, Kathryn reached for the hypo and applied it to her neck.  
  
Jonah Miles nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “Now don’t you think it’s time you went home to your husband?”


	18. Desperate Times

Send somebody to me alive  
Send somebody vital  
Send someone not likely to die  
Send someone who's vital  
Send a fighter  
Highasakite, _Someone Who’ll Get It_

* * *

 

**_Chapter Seventeen: Desperate Times_ **   
_September, 2379_

  
Chakotay spent ten days under constant medical care, first in the USS _Mehit_ ’s sickbay under Dr Neve’s watchful eye, then at Starfleet Medical, before he was discharged. Even then, Seven of Nine insisted on collecting him and escorting him directly to the apartment she shared with Harry Kim.

She was surprised that Chakotay didn’t offer much more than a token protest. He had always been able to accept unexpected situations with equanimity, but she also knew he was proud and extremely private. And there was something wrong, something distant and despairing, in his manner that concerned Seven deeply. He seemed preoccupied, almost obsessed, with scouring the political news and with tracking down every last report on the Borderlands skirmish that had destroyed his ship and several others, but when Seven or Harry tried to draw him into conversation on these topics, Chakotay seemed anxious to change the subject.

On the fourth evening of Chakotay’s stay, Seven invited Tom Paris and B’Elanna Torres for dinner, hoping to lift his mood, but he picked at his meal, spoke little and when B’Elanna’s questions became a little too pointed, he excused himself to the balcony, claiming he needed air. B’Elanna followed him, and Seven’s acute hearing picked up her raised voice even through the closed doors between them, but Chakotay did not appear to be responding and a few minutes later she reappeared, scowling.

“Anyone know a good counsellor?” she growled, stabbing her fork into her half-eaten steak.

Seven tilted her head. “I am acquainted with several; however, it’s my understanding that Captain Chakotay would be restricted to speaking with counsellors who hold an extremely high security clearance.”

“He’d better talk to someone,” B’Elanna declared, “before I cut out his useless tongue,” but the tremble in her voice spoke of the anxiety she was trying to hide behind her anger.

Tom and Harry had been exchanging silent glances across the table.

“Maybe he’s having a rough time over losing his ship,” Harry offered. “According to the casualty reports, he lost almost half his crew, too.”

“So I heard,” Tom said. “I happened to stop by my dad’s office right after the call came through, but we didn’t talk about it much – too busy dealing with a medical emergency of our own.”

“What emergency?” Seven asked.

Tom opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it again. “Never mind. What happened out there, anyway? You two were on the scene. Did the _Ripley_ really fire first?”

“Where did you hear that?” Harry asked him, frowning.

“Does it matter, if it’s true?” Tom pushed his plate away. “And these trade sanctions – if I were the Orions I’d be preparing for full-scale war. You think the Federation is ready for that, so soon after the Dominion invasion?”

“The Klingons won’t let that happen,” B’Elanna declared. “If it comes to open conflict between the Federation and the Orions, they’ll weigh in on our side.”

“You sure about that?” her husband asked. “Martok isn’t Zife’s greatest fan, and the Klingons won’t be too worried if the Borderlands mining planets are closed to them. They’ll still have Rura Penthe for dilithium, and there are plenty of other mineral-rich systems on the Beta side of their territory.”

“Then that explains it,” murmured Seven.

“Explains what?” Harry turned to her.

“Vela Marquez’s interest in the _Hawking_ -class fleet,” she replied, then explained for Tom and B’Elanna’s benefit: “The president sent his aide to inquire after our readiness to launch the fleet into the Beta quadrant as planned this coming December. She implied that there was a possibility the Federation might run short on dilithium resources, even with ...” she hesitated, “even with the mining interest on Trebus.”

Tom swore softly under his breath and muttered, “It’s happening, then.”

At that moment Chakotay reappeared in the doorway, and all four faces turned toward him.

“Whatever you think you know,” he told them gruffly, with heavy emphasis, “you don’t. And I’d advise you – no, I’m _ordering_ you – to stay out of it. Understand?”

“Chakotay …” Tom stood slowly. “Whatever is going on, it’s obvious you’re in the thick of it and so are Tuvok and Admiral Janeway. We can help you.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Chakotay growled. “Stop asking questions, Commander, for the sake of your family. I won’t tell you again.”

He turned away, and a moment later they heard the front door swish closed as he left the apartment.

“Excuse me.” Seven pushed back her chair and strode into the adjoining room, opening her communications console. She tapped in a quick sequence to encrypt the channel and waited, but no response was forthcoming. Instead her signal was deflected.

Frowning, she returned to the dining table.

“What is it?” Harry asked softly.

“It’s Sekaya,” answered Seven. “I just tried to contact her but I can’t establish a connection. Subspace nterference is deflecting my signal. It could be a natural phenomenon, but this has never happened before.”

“Want me to take a look?” offered Harry.

“I’ll come too,” B’Elanna volunteered.

Seven gave them a small smile. “Your assistance would be appreciated.”

As the four of them filed into the next room, Seven heard Harry ask Tom in a low voice if he intended to follow the captain’s order to back off.

“What do you think?” Tom muttered in response.

Her determination bolstered by that of her friends, Seven straightened her spine and began to catalogue the things she knew, and the things she didn’t.

* * *

 

Being blindsided by a juicy news exposé that painted her, variously, as a naïve political arm-accessory and a corrupt, publicity-hungry mastermind might have been painful for Kathryn’s soul, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It gave her the perfect excuse to be angry with her husband, and consequently, to avoid his sexual advances.

The night the news story broke, bolstered by the pheromone suppressant Jonah Miles had given her and feeling strong and pain-free for the first time in months, Kathryn marched through the front door of their apartment and into the living room where Ryan was waiting for her, and confronted him immediately.

“How could you do this to me, Ryan?” she demanded, concealing her righteous, impotent fury under a thick layer of wounded pride. “I’ve had Tora fielding calls from journalists all day long, and for once they’re not calling to ask which designer I’m wearing. The least you could have done out of respect for me – _your wife_ – was to have _warned_ me!”

“Kathryn –”

“Although I suppose I only have myself to blame,” she said tremulously, ignoring him as she unfastened her belt and tossed it over the back of the couch, followed by her jacket. “How could I have been so stupid – so _blind_ – to have not seen this coming? All those trade negotiations with Japori and Midrian … all those publicity tours … Admiral Kjogo and her tight leash…”

“Kathryn, I’m –”

“And you, _husband_ – how can I ever trust you again?” She rounded on him, hands on her hips, and had to take a quick half-step back as he reached for her. “No, don’t touch me! I’m not ready to forgive you, Ryan. You _used_ me.”

“Kathryn, please!” He pushed a hand through his hair, dishevelling it handsomely. “Give me a chance to explain.”

She thought about how convincingly he played his distress, with just the right balance of guilt and supplication against his authority, and tried to remember that she was supposed to be falling for it, not recoiling in disgust.

“It had better be a damned good explanation,” she replied, harsh with hurt that wasn’t entirely feigned. “Because at this point I’m not even sure I believe you ever loved me.”

His eyes narrowed at that, and she checked herself hastily: she’d never been one for melodrama, and Ryan knew it. She softened her voice.

“I’m sorry,” she forced out, pressing her fingers to temples that, for once, didn’t throb, “I’m upset, and I’m not thinking straight. This headache …”

“Let me help you with that,” Ryan soothed immediately, coming close to spread his hands around her skull, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly. It reminded her briefly of the technique Jens used, and she wondered if, had she really had a headache, he might have eased it the same way Jens did.

As it was, the touch of his hands on her made her shudder, and she stepped quickly away before he noticed.

“No,” she husked, “please don’t, Ryan. I need … I need some time,” and she hurried up the stairs and locked herself into the spare bedroom, thanking fate for giving her a reason to sleep alone.

She managed to maintain her injured façade for almost three weeks before Ryan finally lost patience with her.

“Are you going to make me pay for this forever?” he asked her, frustrated, after they’d returned home from yet another interminable formal dinner and been waylaid by the press on the steps of the restaurant. Kathryn had remained silent and tight-lipped while Ryan fielded their questions and all throughout the ride home, and when Ryan had helped her off with her coat and tried to take her in his arms, she had shrugged him off.

“Do you think I don’t have a right to be angry with you?” she asked him evenly, moving away. “You’ve seen the latest reports, haven’t you? Eighteen months ago I was the darling of the Delta quadrant, and now they’re calling me the bitch of the Borderlands.”

He followed her into the lounge room. “Nobody ever accused the Bolian Star of quality journalism, Kathryn. And who cares, anyway? This will all blow over with the next big story.”

“And then what?” She turned to face him. “My reputation is in ruins, at least in the public eye, even if technically I’ve done nothing wrong.”

She watched Ryan’s reaction carefully.

“So that’s what you’re worried about?” he chuckled. He reached for her, his hands curling around her bare upper arms, thumbs rubbing slowly against the soft skin inside her elbows. “Let me deal with the press, okay? This is all my fault, anyway. I’ll make it clear you were acting on my behalf.”

Kathryn bit her lip, pretending her shiver at the stroking of his thumbs was due to arousal rather than revulsion. “And what about my career? I know the president and Admiral Kjogo are on our side, but –”

“ _Our_ side?” he repeated, smiling down at her. “Does that mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

“Oh, I’m still mad at you,” she replied, letting the breath hitch in her throat as he pulled her closer. “My popularity at Starfleet Command has taken a nosedive, thanks to you.”

“Then give it up,” he cajoled, brushing his lips against her cheekbone. “If we’re lucky, you’ll have to take time off soon anyway…”

“Why?” She strained to sound sultry when all she wanted to do was knee him hard between the legs and run.

“Because,” he murmured, “you’re going to stop taking your boosters, and we’re going to make beautiful babies together.”

Kathryn froze.

Ryan pulled back. “Unless you don’t want that,” he said, searching her eyes. “But I thought you wanted children.”

“I do,” she said hastily, forcing conviction into her gaze. “I just … let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”

A slow, dangerous smile curled his lips. “Fine by me,” he rumbled. “Let’s take the first step right now.”

And he pulled her against his body and captured her mouth with his.

It was worse even than the first time Ryan had pressed past her refusals; worse than pretending on Proxima Station. Because this time, instead of being flooded with a tide of want, the suppressants left her body and mind cold and unresponsive. And she was forced to pretend that his every touch – the skim of his fingertips along her waist, his lips on her bare shoulder – was spiralling her into a state where she couldn’t have said no to him even if she’d wanted to.

She had never worked so hard in her life to convince a man of her skittish, yet eager desire for him. And she’d never been so relieved to have kept him waiting, because after their three-week abstinence Ryan was easily led to believe that she wanted to rush to completion, and didn’t waste time on the preliminaries he usually took pride in. As he thrust inside her, Kathryn turned her head aside and closed her eyes to hide the tears she couldn’t bear him to see.

In the morning, Ryan asked when she was due for her annual physical, and Kathryn, remembering that Tora Jens had already reminded her twice last month that she was, in fact, overdue, mumbled that she’d have to check her diary.

“Why don’t you make an appointment, anyway?” Ryan suggested, coming up behind her chair and resting his hands on her shoulders.

“What for?”

He leaned in to nuzzle his lips against her cheek, and Kathryn forced herself not to stiffen.

“To get your booster reversed,” he said, silkily. “I know you said one step at a time, Kathryn, but let’s face it – neither of us is getting any younger.”

Kathryn’s teeth clamped down on her lower lip until she could trust herself not to scream. Then she turned to smile at him.

“I know,” she said, stroking his cheek. “I’ll make an appointment soon, I promise.”

For the first time in three weeks, Kathryn arrived at her office with a headache.

“Admiral,” Tora Jens greeted her, blue eyes clouding as she noted Kathryn’s fingers pressing at her temple. “What would you like first – coffee, or shall I help you with that?”

Kathryn rolled her eyes. “This is nothing, Tora. Coffee will be fine, thank you.”

Her aide brought a tray into Kathryn’s office a few minutes later, pouring two espressos. Kathryn raised an eyebrow. So it was going to be one of those mornings.

“I couldn’t help but notice that your headaches seem to have eased these past weeks, Admiral,” Jens began. “I’m very pleased for you. May I assume that you found the time to visit Starfleet Medical?”

Kathryn accepted the cup Jens held out to her. “You’re free to assume whatever you wish, Lieutenant,” she replied before raising it to her lips and breathing in the scent of coffee.

Tora’s lips twitched. “Yes, Admiral.”

Kathryn relented. “No, I haven’t had my physical, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Then I’ll book you in –”

“No,” Kathryn said sharply, then frowned at her own reply.

Jens blinked at her. “Admiral, as you know it’s a Starfleet requirement for all officers to undergo annual medical examina-”

“No! I won’t let them touch me –” Kathryn stood abruptly, shoving the cup and saucer onto the low table beside her. Her heart was thudding sickly in her chest, her stomach tight with dread.

_This is the way I felt when Tom Paris wanted to scan me_ , she remembered, _and every time my mother insisted I see a doctor. What in the hell is wrong with me?_

Tora Jens was watching her closely. “Is there a reason you don’t want to see a doctor, Admiral?” she asked, her voice low and soothing. She reached out to touch Kathryn’s wrist, her fingers cool. “Did a doctor hurt you once?”

Kathryn yanked her hand away. “You don’t have to talk to me as if I’m a child,” she snapped. “This isn’t some latent trauma, it’s just –”

_What?_ she wondered. She searched her own reactions; it was as if the mere idea of visiting a medical professional – of being scanned and examined – enveloped her in visceral fear. A fear that felt alien, as though it didn’t belong to her.

As though it had been implanted.

Kathryn stilled.

She thought about all the known effects Deltan pheromones could have on humans. Some were benign, like their ability to reduce pain; some were hostile: sexual addiction, mental illness, susceptibility to subconscious suggestion …

Ryan hadn't just abused her reputation and her body; he’d been _brainwashing_ her. All this time he’d been using her to get what he wanted, any way he could. If it hadn't been for Chakotay, she might never have discovered what he was doing to her.

And she’d have ended up just like his first wife: alone, insane and institutionalised.

She shuddered. If Section 31 hadn't decided to recruit her, that was to have been her fate. And they had only taken an interest because of her usefulness to them, not because they actually cared about her wellbeing.

Just like Ryan. Just like Kjogo.

Even Chakotay, though she didn’t doubt his motives in warning her about Ryan, had used her – had taken her to bed, she thought with an aching sense of shame – to further his mission.

She’d been right all along. She was alone.

* * *

 

Three weeks after the Battle of the Borderlands, Chakotay was cleared for duty and promptly reported to the Turner Building.

He’d contacted Jonah Miles once during his convalescence, requesting new orders, and was informed that Section 31 had the situation in hand and his services were not required at this time; when he protested, Miles deactivated the communication signal and the next time Chakotay tried to open a channel, he found that he couldn’t.

Frustrated, he’d sent an encoded message to Kash to let her know of his status and that he intended to return to the Borderlands as soon as he was able. It took a day, but he finally received a reply, ordering him to report to home base for what she referred to as “the final phase”.

_The final phase of what?_ he’d wondered. Six months ago, when he’d visited Entera’s home base at the Celendi Nebula and met with the coalition’s astonishing trio of leaders – Ube Mekas, Tal’aura and Sikola – they had indicated that they preferred to avoid a war in the Borderlands. But he’d suspected even then that they knew conflict was inevitable and were simply waiting until the timing of it was optimal to their interests. And that suspicion had been confirmed when he realised it was an Entera spy who’d initiated the battle in the Yaraka sector.

People had died in that battle – Starfleet officers; his crew. He had almost died. If Section 31 thought he intended to sit back while they pulled some other poor bastard’s strings, just because Chakotay was no longer of immediate use to them …

“Captain, the admiral is available to see you now.”

He was almost relieved at the interruption to his brooding. Rising, he nodded his thanks to the aide holding open the door for him.

Owen Paris stood before his desk, piercing gaze locked on Chakotay as he entered the office. “Good to see you’re in one piece, Captain,” he said, offering his hand.

Chakotay clasped it briefly. “I wouldn’t have been, if it weren’t for my XO and my helmsman. They came back to save me at great risk to themselves.”

“I’ve read the reports,” Paris replied. “Commander Sereni and Ensign Trabin have both received commendations for valour and offered their choice of reassignment. You should know they’ve both requested to remain under your command.”

Chakotay ducked his head. “That’s … gratifying.”

“And a credit to your abilities,” Paris said pointedly. “It wasn’t your fault the _Zapata_ was destroyed, Captain. As I said, I read the reports. Your ship was plagued with malfunctions and, frankly, should have been recalled to Utopia Planitia for a full inspection; you never stood a chance against an Orion interceptor. It’s thanks to your actions that you managed to save thirty-eight officers.”

“Out of a crew of sixty-five,” Chakotay said softly. “No casualties are acceptable, Admiral, but that’s an intolerably high fatality rate.”

“I know,” Paris said, his tone equally sombre.

“You’re right about the malfunctions, sir,” Chakotay went on after a moment. “The _Zapata_ underwent a complete overhaul before Tuvok took command and was registered fit for service, yet almost every week we discovered a new problem.”

“That can’t be coincidental.”

“My thoughts exactly. Someone was sabotaging her. I believe the Orions had an operative aboard, and …” Chakotay hesitated, “I reported my concerns to my handler, but as far I know, he was unable to identify the saboteur.”

Paris had gone still. “Your handler,” he repeated slowly. “Care to explain, Captain?”

Chakotay swallowed hard. “About a year ago I was recruited by an agency whose representative claimed that they worked in the interests of the Federation but outside of its restrictions. This man, who became my handler, said his agency wanted to bring down Entera and believed I was in the ideal position to help them do just that.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, avoiding Owen Paris’ steely glare.

“I was sceptical at first, but he convinced me that he was telling the truth. He also convinced me that Entera was a greater threat to the Federation, and the stability of the Alpha quadrant, than I’d previously suspected. And he warned me about the situation on Trebus before Starfleet had even the faintest inkling about it. So I agreed to work for his agency. I wanted to expose Entera and protect the Federation, and I needed to protect my people.”

He raised his eyes to Paris’ at last.

“You already know everything I’ve told my handler, with one exception. I believe President Zife is one of the key players in Entera. I don’t know if he’s holding the power or merely a pawn for Mekas and the others, but he’s definitely involved. And we need to bring him down.”

There was silence when he’d finished speaking; silence that lasted long enough that Chakotay shifted his feet.

Then Paris said, “I was wondering when you’d finally come clean.”

Chakotay stared at him. “You mean you’ve –”

“Known all along? Yes.”

He frowned at the admiral. “How did you know I’d come clean at all?”

Paris gave him a small smile. “Because I’m a good judge of character, Chakotay, and my judgement of your character is that, while you’re quite able to play a role when required, you’re not naturally dishonest. This must have been tearing you up. A year,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You lasted longer than I thought you would.”

“How did you know, sir?” Chakotay asked. “I mean, about Section 31.”

Owen Paris laughed. “I’ve been in Starfleet for a long time, and I come from a very long line of ‘fleet brats. Section 31 has existed since the Federation was chartered. Do you really think the agency could have maintained its secrecy or its power base without recruiting heavily from Starfleet ranks?”

“Then you’re –”

“An agent? No. But I’m a realist. I don’t condone some of their methods, but I’ve worked with them when it’s expedient and in the interests of Federation security. And I have the advantage of a long-standing friendship with someone very high up in the agency. Someone I trust.”

“Who?” Chakotay started to ask, then shook his head. “Never mind. I’m not sure I want to know. In any case, Admiral, it seems I’m no longer useful to Section 31. As soon I contacted my handler to pass on my suspicions about the president, they cut me off.”

“You gave the agency the same information you gave me?” Paris confirmed, and at Chakotay’s nod, went on, “Then they must be working to bring the coalition down from the inside. There must be an operative planted inside Zife’s administration, or somewhere else very close to Entera’s power base.” He clasped Chakotay’s shoulder. “One thing I’ve learned about 31 is that they always have a backup plan for their backup plan. If I were you, I’d consider yourself excused from duty, and be glad of it. You did good work, Captain, but it’s over now.”

“What if it’s not enough?” Chakotay insisted, beginning to pace. “Entera has a stranglehold on the Borderlands, a monopoly on the trade routes between Earth and Cardassia and now sole rights to the Trebus dilithium mine. They’ve seeded the Romulan Star Empire, the Cardassian Union and the Klingon Empire. They’re controlling the Federation president, if not taking their orders from him.”

He stopped in front of Paris, his eyes boring into the older man’s.

“Starfleet has already lost good people, thanks to Entera’s machinations,” he went on. “According to my sister, Trebus is on the verge of violence. The Borderlands are about to explode into further armed conflict. More people are going to die, Admiral, and Section 31 doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to stop it.”

Paris’ eyes were grave. “What are you proposing?”

“Stopping it before it starts,” said Chakotay. “You said yourself you don’t condone the agency’s methods, so let me try another way. I’ll take a leave of absence and use it to defect to Entera. I’ll figure out their next move. And I’ll put a stop to it before anybody else ends up dead.”

“And what about you?” asked Owen Paris. “What if you end up dead?”

“Then it’s been an honour serving with you, Admiral.”


	19. Desperate Measures

As you stand upon the edge  
Hanging in the balance  
And fate may fall down upon you  
While the devil is knocking  
Valerie Broussard, _Awaken_  


* * *

  
  
**_Chapter Eighteen: Desperate Measures_**  
_October, 2379_  
  
  
“Admiral Janeway, over here!”  
  
“Councillor Austin, if you’d look this way, please …”  
  
“Mr President, could you step forward a little?”  
  
“Admiral!” “Councillor!” “President Zife!”  
  
Bulbs flashed, leaving ghostly after-images floating before Kathryn’s eyes as she posed, straight-backed and scantily clad, on the steps of the Palais de la Concorde. She was flanked by Ryan and President Zife, with a uniformed Admiral Kjogo on Zife’s other side and Admirals Ube Mekas and Ch’ura beyond the Tandaran woman. Ryan’s hand rested possessively on her lower back, and Kathryn forced herself to not shrug him off, to remain still and poised, to tilt her chin at the perfect angle for the cameras and smile, and smile, and smile …  
  
She wondered what fresh hell was happening now. She and Ryan had been en route to yet another diplomatic dinner when Ryan had received the summons to Paris. There’d been no time even to change their clothes; a fact she regretted bitterly, both because she stood out like a coquettish beacon against the uniforms and tailored suits surrounding her, and because Paris at dawn was desperately cold.  
  
Worst of all, she thought the suppressant Jonah Miles had given her a few weeks ago must be wearing off, because lately, every time her husband put his hands on her, she found it harder and harder to remember how much she hated him.  
  
Finally Zife’s aide, Vela Marquez, raised her hands and asked for silence, and the flashes and bids for attention died away as the president stepped up to the podium.  
  
“Citizens of the Federation, representatives of Starfleet, members of the press, and everyone else joining us across the Alpha quadrant and beyond,” Zife began, “thank you all for your attention, which I promise not to tax too severely.”  
  
A smattering of chuckles greeted him, along with a brief flicker of holo-cameras.  
  
“I have two announcements to make today, and in the interests of brevity there will be no questions at the end. My aide, Ms Marquez, will field any follow-ups through the usual channels.”  
  
He paused, his face falling into grave lines.  
  
“Last month our brave Starfleet colleagues suffered tragic losses in the conflict in the Yaraka sector. As a direct result of that, I ordered Fleet Admiral Shanthi, the Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet, to increase our armed presence in the Borderlands region until we can be assured that there will be no further attacks by the Orions. Unfortunately, Admiral Shanthi did not see fit to offer the good citizens of the Federation such protection.”  
  
Zife paused, meeting the eyes of several of the rapt journalists in the front row. Kathryn felt her heart begin to thud as she tried to calculate the potential devastation of whatever bombshell he was about to drop.  
  
Whatever it was, it was clear from Ryan’s smug expression that he knew exactly what was about to happen.  
  
“As you would be aware,” continued Zife, “a sitting president can call an emergency meeting of the Starfleet Board of Admirals to rule upon pressing matters of Federation security, and tonight I have done just that.”  
  
A low murmur began in the crowd below.  
  
“In the interests of avoiding further bloodshed in the Borderlands, I have ordered Admiral Taela Shanthi’s removal as Commander-in-Chief. This decision does not require further endorsement; however, it must be made in the presence of at least four flag officers. Thanks to Admirals Mekas, Ch’ura, Kjogo and Janeway, that requirement has been met.”  
  
Kathryn was barely able to stifle the gasp that rose in her throat. _You treacherous bastard_ , she thought, her anger divided equally between the two men flanking her.  
  
“My apologies, Admiral Janeway,” Zife turned to her, bestowing her with a smile. “I understand you and Councillor Austin postponed your evening plans for this.”  
  
She forced a stiff nod in return, and felt Ryan’s fingers tightening on her hip in warning. “Of course, Mr President,” he cut in smoothly.  
  
Zife turned back to the crowd; the noise was swelling and he held up his hands for silence. “You’ll be wondering, of course, who will replace Admiral Shanthi as Commander-in-Chief,” he said, turning to the tall, olive-skinned Tandaran woman on his other side. “Allow me to present Fleet Admiral Nyla Kjogo, the new head of Starfleet.”  
  
The holo-cameras in the crowd lit up like strobes, and the blood pounded in Kathryn’s ears. She could feel herself trembling, could feel the colour draining from her face.  
  
“You knew about this,” she hissed to Ryan under cover of the rising tide of sound.  
  
“Smile, honey,” he muttered back, dipping his head as though sharing a secret with her. “Remember, the galaxy’s watching.”  
  
Zife allowed the hubbub for a while, then called for quiet again. “Settle down, I’m not finished yet,” he called drolly, to scattered laughter.  
  
When all was hushed, the Bolian’s smile faded and he rested his hands on the podium, again seeking eye contact with members of the crowd.  
  
“You all remember the Dominion War,” he said, his voice pitched low and serious. “You all know that I would do anything in my power to defend the Federation from those who would destroy it. And if that means strengthening our borders – if that means striking first at those who would harm us – then that is what I’ll do. Because that is what will keep us all safe.”  
  
_My God_ , Kathryn thought. _He really believes that. He really believes he’s making the right choices for all of us_.  
  
“And,” Zife went on, “if that means extending the hand of friendship to those we once called our enemies, then I will do that, also. Which brings me to my second announcement.”  
  
Kathryn, and everybody else present, tensed.  
  
“An hour ago, I received word that Alon Ghemor, Castellan of the Cardassian Union, has been assassinated by persons unknown.”  
  
Zife paused to allow the shock that followed this statement to echo around the open square.  
  
“The Cardassian government has called a state of emergency and has named a former military leader, Legate Kiana Sikola, as caretaker in chief until a new castellan can be elected. I have contacted Caretaker Sikola to offer the resources of the Federation in seeking the assassins who would destabilise Cardassia’s hard-won peace, and have assured her that the alliance between us remains unbroken. With that in mind, and knowing that Cardassia’s resources are stretched to breaking point and have left them unable to obtain a number of necessary raw materials, I have entered into an agreement with the Union to allow them access to the dilithium mine situated on the fifth planet of the Dorvan system, which is, of course, conveniently located to the Cardassian border.”  
  
It was at that point that Kathryn’s knees buckled, and Ryan’s vice-like grip as he pulled her close to his side was the only thing that kept her upright.  


* * *

  
  
For two weeks, ever since his feigned defection, Chakotay had run mindless errands and lent his muscle – for labour or for violence – whenever and wherever he’d been ordered to do so. But Kash shadowed him constantly, and his requests to enter the command centre in the Celendi Nebula had been ignored, and Chakotay couldn’t escape the suspicion that he was being kept in the dark.  
  
So much for his admission to the inner circle of Entera. He hadn’t even found out, until he was sitting in the co-pilot’s seat of Kash’s shuttle the day before, that their passenger out of the Borderlands was Senator Tal’aura, whom they were to transport to a cloaked Romulan vessel on the edge of the Neutral Zone. As for Mekas and Sikola, he’d discovered on quizzing Kash, they’d long since returned to Earth and Cardassia respectively.  
  
Now, sitting in the bar on Qualor II after having dropped off their covert cargo, nursing a synthale while he waited for Kash to return from her paid-by-the-hour entertainment, Chakotay glanced up at the silent viewscreen behind the bartender’s head and sighed in resignation.  
  
Who else would he expect to see, standing on the steps of the Palais de la Concorde, surrounded by the president, Starfleet brass and her ever-present, detestably handsome husband, but Kathryn Janeway?  
  
_She looks cold_ , Chakotay thought, then, looking closer, _no. She looks devastated_.  
  
“Hey,” he called to the bartender, “excuse me. Could you turn up the volume, please?”  
  
“ _… entered into an agreement with the Union to allow them access to the dilithium mine situated on the fifth planet of the Dorvan system_ ,” the president was declaring, and Chakotay’s spine snapped straight, “ _which is, of course, conveniently located to the Cardassian border. I’d like to extend my gratitude to the Treban ruling council, without whose generosity this peace accord would not have been possible …_ ”  
  
The glass slipped from Chakotay’s hand and shattered on the floor, but by the time the bartender had finished shouting after him, Chakotay was long gone.  
  
It was easy to steal the shuttle; he’d downloaded Kash’s prints into a holographic data chip months ago for just such an eventuality. As soon as he’d broken orbit of the planet he set a course for the Dorvan system and went to warp seven, the shuttle’s top speed.  
  
“Computer,” he ordered, “open an encrypted communication channel and direct the signal to Sekaya of Trebus.”  
  
_Unable to comply._  
  
“Explain,” Chakotay demanded.  
  
_The signal is being deflected by subspace interference._  
  
“Source?”  
  
_Unknown_.  
  
“Damn it,” Chakotay muttered. “Computer, boost power to the –”  
  
_Warning_ , the computer interrupted him. _Proximity alert._  
  
“Shields up,” he snapped. “Identify.”  
  
_Incoming weapons fire_ , reported the computer, and as the little shuttle shuddered, _Direct hit to the port nacelle. Warp engines are off-line_.  
  
“Computer, identify that ship,” Chakotay said harshly.  
  
_Unable to identify_ , the computer answered helpfully. _Incoming transmission_.  
  
“Open a channel,” he snarled, then, “Whoever you are, cease fire immediately!”  
  
~Hello, Captain Chakotay,~ came Kash’s self-satisfied purr. ~If you’ll adjust the viewer of your shuttle – excuse me, _my_ shuttle – to a polarisation variable of point zero three, you’ll be able to see us just as clearly as we can see you.~  
  
Silently, Chakotay did as she suggested, and clenched his teeth at the sight of a sleek craft of Romulan design, obviously cloaked, and obviously trespassing.  
  
“Whoever is flying that thing,” he remarked, “you’re taking quite a risk visiting this side of the Neutral Zone.”  
  
~Perhaps,~ replied a baritone that seemed, to Chakotay, faintly recognisable, though he couldn’t place it. ~But I think it’s a risk worth taking. On screen.~  
  
Chakotay found himself looking into his viewer at Kash, his Trialan contact, seated next to a pale, shaven-headed man who was unmistakeably human, despite his Romulan garb.  
  
And, somehow, familiar.  
  
“Do I know you?” Chakotay asked him guardedly.  
  
The man’s lips turned up at the corners. “Not exactly,” he answered, “but that’s a story for another day. In the meantime, Captain, please lower your shields and prepare to beam aboard.”  
  
“I don’t think so,” answered Chakotay. “I’m a little busy right now.”  
  
~I’m afraid I must insist, ~ the man replied steadily. ~Drop your shields, Captain. There’s no need for bloodshed today. ~  
  
“Tell that to Zife,” he retorted, hands busily flying over the console before him. “There’s about to be a whole lot of my people’s blood on his hands.”  
  
~We’re wasting time, ~ Kash muttered. ~Target the secondary dorsal generator with a two-second phaser pulse. ~  
  
The man raised an eyebrow.  
  
~Trust me. I know my ship. ~  
  
Chakotay did his best to avoid the incoming phaser blast, but Kash was right: she knew her ship, and his evasive manoeuvres could hold off the far more powerful Romulan shuttle for only so long. Eventually the shot hit true, and his shields collapsed, and he felt himself dematerialising.  
  
When his molecules had re-formed, he found himself standing on a Romulan transporter pad with two disruptors aimed at his chest.  
  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Captain Chakotay,” the bald man smiled without warmth or sincerity. “My name is Shinzon.”  


* * *

  
  
Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl.  
  
At least Zife had been as good as his word about not taking questions after his shock press conference, Kathryn thought. But, instead, he’d insisted that she and Ryan join the rest of his contingent at his private residence to celebrate Nyla Kjogo’s promotion to Commander-in-Chief, and so she was forced to sip champagne and smile as she stood at her husband’s side, pretending she didn’t mind that his hand was always in contact with her waist or her shoulder or the nape of her neck.  
  
Finally, when it was approaching four in the morning, San Francisco time, she made her excuses, claiming an early start in the office and the need to catch some sleep. Ryan reluctantly allowed her to go home alone when she insisted she’d transport there directly and comm him the moment she rematerialised.  
  
She did. And then she waited a further fifteen minutes, for safety’s sake, before she let herself into Ryan’s study and broke into his computer.  
  
It wasn’t the first time she’d tried to hack into his personal files, but until now, she’d never managed to be half a world away from him. Still, she’d have to work quickly. Distance would mean very little if Ryan had procured his own personal transport device.  
  
“Come on, Arachnia,” she whispered, as alphanumeric sequences scrolled before her tired, smarting eyes. “Where would an evil mastermind hide his secret plans for galactic domination?”  
  
She giggled, then stopped abruptly. _Must have had too much champagne_ , she thought, rubbing her eyes.  
  
Insistent beeping interrupted her from her communications console in the next room, and Kathryn left her search parameters running while she hurried to answer it.  
  
“You look exhausted, Owen,” she greeted the silver-haired admiral on the vidscreen. “That was some press conference, hm?”  
  
~Are you all right, Katie?~ Paris frowned at her.  
  
Kathryn pressed her fingers to her temples, which had begun to throb heavily. “Just a little too much French champagne. Had to celebrate Kjogo’s promotion, even though I’d rather kick her in the face,” she muttered, then at Paris’ growing expression of alarm, waved a hand. “Forget it. What’s up?”  
  
~Chakotay has gone missing.~  
  
Instantly, all trace of drink-induced mirth left her, leaving Kathryn dry-mouthed, with a sick, thudding headache.  
  
“What do you mean, he’s gone missing?”  
  
~He sent a coded transmission from the Qualor system saying he was breaking cover to head for Trebus, and if he didn’t check in with me again in three hours I should assume he wasn’t going to make it.~  
  
“His cover?” Kathryn’s hand strayed to her throat. “You mean he went back to Entera? What the hell for?”  
  
~To bring them down from the inside.~ Paris was looking at her with alarm. ~Kathryn, I’m very concerned about you. You don’t look well.~  
  
“I’m fine,” she snapped. “Owen, how could you do that? How could you let Chakotay go back undercover? I told you I’d handle it, and I – I –”  
  
She broke off into a laugh that held no happiness.  
  
“Who am I kidding?” she asked the empty room, throwing up her hands. “I had no idea what they were planning. I didn’t know that Ryan and Kjogo would manipulate President Zife into selling Trebus to the Cardassians. Oh God, Owen, what will they do to Chakotay’s people? How can we stop this?”  
  
~Janeway!~ barked Owen Paris, and when she stopped abruptly, staring at the vidscreen in shock, he nodded. ~That’s better. Now listen to me, Admiral. Whatever you’re planning to do, I want you to stand down. You are not to put yourself in any further danger. Do you understand?~  
  
Kathryn bit her lip, then dropped her gaze. “I understand, sir. Janeway out,” and she tapped the channel closed before Paris could speak again.  
  
Then she wrapped a cloak around her skimpy, sparkly evening dress, activated her transporter, and materialised in the outer vestibule of Nyla Kjogo’s office.  
  
It took time to break into Kjogo’s inner sanctum, crack the passcode on her personal console and initiate a search and sweep. But either she was getting better at the cloak-and-dagger stuff or Kjogo wasn’t quite as sneaky as Ryan was – perhaps because she didn’t have a curious wife to contend with – because in less than twenty minutes, Kathryn had found what she was looking for.  
  
“Oh God,” she whispered aloud, speed-reading the damning information on one of the many files she’d hacked into. “Zife is no puppet; he’s every bit as complicit as the rest of them … and Ube Mekas … Ch’ura …” Her hand strayed to the knot at the back of her neck, wishing she could knead away the pain so she could think straight.  
  
And then she found something that made her forget her headache altogether.  
  
Reaching into her cloak pocket, she brought out her combadge and opened a channel to Owen Paris.  
  
~Kathryn?~ his voice came through. ~Where are you?~  
  
“I’m in Admiral Kjogo’s office,” she answered, “and I’ve found something you need to see. I’m downloading it to a data storage chip now, but Owen –”  
  
~Didn’t I order you to stand down?~ he demanded, gruff with frustration.  
  
“Yes, and I said I understood that order. Admiral, you have to listen to me,” Kathryn insisted. “I’ve found evidence that a member of Entera is intending to carry out the assassination of several Romulan senators and install a Reman as the new praetor. It’s expected to take place within hours.”  
  
There was a pause.  
  
~Kathryn, close the channel and transport to my house immediately. Do not contact anyone else. Just get here now.~  
  
“Aye, sir,” she murmured, and tapped her combadge, rising from the chair.  
  
But just as she tucked the data chip into her cloak pocket, the office door opened and Nyla Kjogo strode in, stopping short as she locked eyes with Kathryn.

 

* * *

  
  
“Seven, are you seeing this?”  
  
“What?” Seven asked distractedly, most of her attention on the file she’d unearthed from the depths of the classified Starfleet database.  
  
“It’s all over the news – Seven?”  
  
Harry appeared in the doorway to her study, and Seven quickly shut down her terminal and turned to him.  
  
“Yes?” she asked, smoothing out her expression.  
  
Undeceived, he cocked an eyebrow. “What are you up to?”  
  
“It’s not important.” She shook her head. “What news?”  
  
Harry gestured her into the living room, and together they watched the report playing out on the large vidscreen.  
  
When it had finished, Seven murmured, “That would explain why I’ve been unable to reach Sekaya … Harry, we need to contact Chakotay. He may need our help. See if Commanders Paris and Torres can assist you. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” Harry retorted archly. “Where are you going?”  
  
Seven was shrugging on her jacket and striding for the door. “To solve a different mystery.”  


* * *

  
  
“What are you doing, Kathryn?”  
  
She straightened up, letting the data chip slip unobtrusively into her pocket. Nyla Kjogo’s eyes were wintry, but Kathryn refused to let fear chill her.  
  
“I think the real question, Admiral,” she replied, “is what have _you_ been doing?”  
  
“Whatever you think you know …” Kjogo took three steps into the room, letting the door close behind her and locking her eyes on Kathryn’s, “I recommend you keep it to yourself. You have no idea what’s at stake here, and if you decide to start meddling in things you don’t understand –”  
  
“Oh, I understand all right,” Kathryn interrupted her, hands on hips. “I understand all too well, _Commander-in-Chief_. But you know what really burns me up? It’s just how long I’ve let you get away with it. You, and my lying conspirator of a husband, and that traitor of a president.”  
  
She watched Kjogo’s demeanour change; watched the calm settle over the older woman’s expression like a blanket of snow.  
  
“And what do you think you can do about it, Kathryn?” Kjogo asked her, almost gently. “Expose us? Take us down? You’re in it up to your pretty little neck.”  
  
“Yes, I am, thanks to you,” Kathryn ground out. “Well played, Admiral. But there’s one thing you haven’t counted on.”  
  
“Oh?” Kjogo smiled at her faintly. “What’s that?”  
  
“I don’t care if I spend the rest of my days in a Federation penal colony mining dilithium with a pickaxe and a shovel, just as long as you’re right there suffering alongside me.”  
  
And she pushed past the woman who had made her life hell for the past eighteen months, hoping that Nyla Kjogo would be surprised enough by Kathryn’s sudden backbone that she’d give her time enough to escape.  


* * *

  
  
“You’re kidding me, right?” Tom Paris was attempting to braid his almost-two-year-old daughter’s curly hair and simultaneously stop her from flinging her breakfast all over the kitchen; he could barely spare his best friend a glance. “B’Elanna’s at Utopia Planitia testing her brand new super-charged warp drive. There’s no way I can call her back to Earth now.”  
  
~Then you’ll have to do,~ Kim cajoled him from the other side of the vidscreen. ~Come on, Tom, I need your help, and so does Chakotay.~  
  
“It’s my day off,” whined Tom. “What am I supposed to do with Miral?”  
  
“Harry,” yelled Miral, waving. “Uncle Harry.”  
  
~Hi, Miri,~ Harry waved back. ~Tom, can’t your mom take her?~  
  
“Fine,” Tom gave in; he knew and Harry knew there had never been any doubt that his protests were token, anyway. “Give me thirty minutes. And call Tuvok – if anyone knows how to get hold of Chakotay, it’ll be him.”  
  
~What about Admiral Janeway?~  
  
“Really, Harry? When’s the last time those two had a civil conversation?”  
  
~Okay, okay.~ Harry held up his hands. ~I’m going. Bye, Miri.~  
  
Miral flung a spoonful of porridge at the terminal and it spattered onto the image of Harry’s forehead just before the screen went black.  
  
“Nice aim, kid,” muttered Tom, grabbing a cloth to wipe it clean. “Let’s go.”  


* * *

  
  
Kathryn fished for her combadge in the depths of her cloak pocket again, pressing it between finger and thumb as she hurried out of the Communications building and along the mist-laden paths of the HQ grounds.  
  
“Janeway to Lieutenant Jens.”  
  
The badge chirped. ~Jens here, Admiral.~  
  
“I’m sure I don’t have to ask if you’ve seen the news.”  
  
~No, ma’am. I’ve prepared a statement for you and am waiting in your office.~  
  
“Thank you, Lieutenant; I expected nothing less. However, I won’t be coming into the office today. In fact, I’ll be uncontactable until further notice.”  
  
~Admiral?~ Jens sounded alarmed. ~Is everything all right?~  
  
 “All right?” Kathryn’s steps faltered. “No, Tora. But I intend to make it right.”  
  
~Admiral …~  
  
“Never mind that.” She sighed, slowing to a halt. “Just field my calls, will you? I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”  
  
~Admiral, please -~  
  
“Janeway out,” Kathryn said firmly. Then she deactivated the combadge and dropped it back into her pocket, pulling out her personal transport device instead.  
  
She set coordinates for the Paris house and initiated transport, expecting to materialise on the front porch.  
  
But as her body took solid form, she looked at her surroundings and discovered that she was standing on the transporter pad of a shuttle of unknown design. Rising from the pilot’s seat, a wicked-looking phase pistol trained on her, was her husband.  
  
“Hi, honey,” he said. “Thought you said you were going home to bed.”  
  
“Ryan,” she glanced around quickly, taking in the sleek cockpit, “what’s going on? Where are we?”  
  
“You know, I just realised I haven’t yet taken you for a joyride in my little _Delta Queen_. And I named her after you.” He grinned at her. “Or did I?”  
  
Kathryn met his eyes. “Maybe you named her after your mother.”  
  
Ryan lost his smile.  
  
“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?” he said coldly. “But you never did learn that sometimes it’s better to just stop asking questions. Especially when poking your nose into things that don’t concern you could get you hurt.”  
  
“Hurt?” Kathryn scoffed. “You don’t care about hurting anyone, least of all me. All you care about is power and wealth and –”  
  
She gasped, her words cut off as Ryan lunged forward, the hand that wasn’t holding the phaser snapping around her wrist like a vice. He yanked hard and she stumbled on her stiletto heels, falling against his body; he spun her, pulling her back to his chest, his arms wrapped around her and the pistol’s muzzle tucked up against her jaw.  
  
Ryan’s breath was hot against her ear. “Why couldn’t you just be my wife, Kathryn?” he hissed. “I’d have given you everything, and all you had to do was just – play – _along_.”  
  
The muzzle dug into the soft flesh under her chin, and Kathryn’s voice came out strained. “If you wanted someone you could bully into submission,” she managed, “you shouldn’t have picked _me_.”  
  
And she raised her right heel, slamming her stiletto down into the bony centre of his foot.  
  
Ryan howled, his arms tightening convulsively around her waist and chest until Kathryn gasped for breath. She struggled, but he was fiendishly strong and the headache she’d been suffering all night seemed to have quadrupled in strength. She felt weak, dizzy; the lights of the shuttle’s consoles danced and wavered before her eyes. She pushed feebly at his arms and swallowed hard against the gathering nausea.  
  
_This isn’t just the champagne_ , she realised.  
  
“What did you do to me?” she asked, her voice slurred. “What did you put in my wine?”  
  
“Something to make you a little more submissive,” Ryan growled through teeth gritted with pain. “And this should finish the job.”  
  
She felt him fumbling in his pocket, felt him press something to her neck, felt the familiar hiss of a hypospray.  
  
“Say goodnight, Kathryn,” she heard him gloat, his voice fading and distorting as though it was coming through an echo chamber, and then she knew nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably note at this point that, while the people and notable dates in this little conspiracy tale line up roughly with canon (or at least beta-canon), this story renders _Star Trek: Nemesis_ an AU, which … according to some … isn’t a bad thing …


	20. Degrees of Sin

Looks turn to lovers, flames into fires  
Jack loves his tragedy, Queen her desires  
You look well suited like you came to win  
Lust, spite and malice, your degrees of sin  
 Placebo, _Spite and Malice_  
  


* * *

  
  
**_Chapter Nineteen: Degrees of Sin_**  
 _October, 2379_  
  
  
Chakotay had undergone torture before.  
  
Once, when his Maquis cell had raided a Cardassian weapons facility, he’d spent twelve hours in captivity after tripping an alarm their sensors hadn't warned them about. Torres, Bendera and Ayala had stormed in to rescue him, but it had taken him three days in a medical facility to physically recover, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever fully recovered mentally.  
  
Then there was the time he’d let Seska and her Kazon cronies capture him, but that had mostly involved him taking punches, something both his Starfleet tactical training and his boxing experience had equipped him to handle. Of course, that incident had ended with the theft of his DNA and the emotional torture of realising, months later, that Seska’s manipulation had led to the capture of _Voyager_.  
  
This, though … this was something different.  
  
He had never met a Reman before. Now, having met the man Shinzon addressed only as ‘Viceroy’, he quite fervently hoped he never would again.  
  
“Tell me how much you know,” the Reman demanded in a voice like winter. “What have you told Starfleet? Do they know about our plans?”  
  
“What … plans?” Chakotay forced out through gritted teeth as his body shuddered involuntarily, legacy of the series of neuro-synaptic shocks the Reman had delivered using a slender rod akin to a Klingon painstik. “You mean … your fiendish scheme to … overthrow the galactic overlords … and rule the cosmos?”  
  
He’d almost bitten through his tongue the first time the Reman had touched that rod to his spinal column. Each time it was used on him, shooting arcs of agony bowed his fingers and toes and energy seemed to thrash around inside his body, like a current with nowhere to escape.  
  
The Viceroy hadn't been averse to using his fists, either; in between applications of the Rod of Doom, as Chakotay had mentally christened it, he’d cracked a couple of Chakotay’s ribs, loosened a few teeth, bloodied his nose and mouth and left an intricate pattern of bruising across his torso and back. Being strung up from his wrists by a pair of self-sealing duranium cuffs meant there was nothing Chakotay could do to protect himself, except keep up a satirical internal monologue in which he cast the Viceroy as Doctor Chaotica and himself as the hapless sidekick, awaiting rescue by Captain Proton or, preferably, the Queen of the Spider People.  
  
Far worse than the physical pain, though, was the mental torment.  
  
Chakotay hadn't known Remans had telepathic abilities. The Viceroy was able to tap directly into his mind simply by touch; almost like a Vulcan mind-meld, but far less benign, pulling thoughts and memories from him as easily as a cork from a champagne bottle, twisting them into something hateful and terrifying and projecting the images back into Chakotay’s tortured consciousness. After the third time he was forced to endure mental visions of Kathryn screaming as she died in ever more protracted and horrible ways, Chakotay was wondering if his own death would be preferable.  
  
Chaotica’s Brain Probe had nothing on that.  
  
“Tell us what Starfleet Intelligence knows,” the Reman intoned, grey lips close to Chakotay’s ear, “and the pain will stop.”  
  
“Forget it,” Chakotay rasped. “Your heinous designs are … no match for the might of Captain Proton …”  
  
His words slurred into exhausted laughter.  
  
“He’s making no sense,” he heard the Viceroy utter in disgust. “Shinzon, we must return you to Romulus. We’re wasting time here.”  
  
Shinzon turned from the pilot’s seat. “We’re fifty thousand kilometres from the Vana’diel Nebula. Kash’s shuttle has already docked with the complex. She is preparing to receive the captain as soon as we’re close enough to transport him.”  
  
“Good,” rumbled the Viceroy, “then I will enjoy my final opportunity to probe this human’s mind.”  
  
Talon-like fingers curled around Chakotay’s skull, and ribbons of blinding fire pulsed into every nerve and pathway, flooding his mind’s eye with images so vile, so violent, that all he could do was scream.  
  


* * *

  
  
Seven of Nine stepped through the translucent double doors on the twelfth floor of the Communications building at Starfleet Headquarters. It was still early enough that the building was close to empty, but lights glowed in the office at the end of the corridor.  
  
She could hear movement inside as she slipped through the entrance; the door between the anteroom and the inner office was ajar, and she watched silently for a moment as the dark-haired young woman in command red bent over the imposing desk, rifling through drawers and tapping at the computer terminal.  
  
The young woman uttered a sigh of what Seven presumed was frustration and straightened up, kicking the desk drawer shut. Seven stepped out from behind the door, blocking her path and bringing her to an abrupt halt.  
  
Only for a moment.  
  
“Excuse me,” the other woman muttered, trying to push past.  
  
Seven’s hand shot out and encircled her arm. “Lieutenant Jens, a moment please.”  
  
Tora Jens struggled against Seven’s grip, but Seven held fast, and after a moment Jens stilled with only a brief, longing glance in the direction of the corridor.  
  
“You can let go of me now,” she said, looking pointedly at Seven’s Borg-enhanced hand.  
  
Seven released her. “Where is Admiral Janeway?”  
  
“She’s not available right now,” Jens answered, “but I can leave a message for her.”  
  
“That won’t be necessary,” replied Seven. “You’re the one I came to see.”  
  
Jens went still. “Why?”  
  
“Because I know who you are,” Seven said with calm emphasis, “and what you’ve been doing.”  
  
For a moment Jens didn’t react. Then she straightened her spine, all the warmth draining from her blue eyes.  
  
“Whatever you think you know, Seven,” she began, “you don’t have the first idea –”  
  
Her combadge chirped.  
  
Cutting herself off, Tora drew a quick breath and tapped it. “Lieutenant Jens.”  
  
~Jens?~ the man on the other end of the comm demanded in surprise. ~I was trying to reach Admiral Janeway.~  
  
“She’s had her communications diverted to me, Admiral Paris. How may I help?”  
  
~You can tell me where the hell she is,~ growled Owen Paris. ~And don’t bullshit me, Lieutenant, because this is shaping up to be a very bad day.~  
  
Seven’s eyes stayed locked with Jens’ as the other woman’s expression changed. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know where she is.”  
  
The click of dead air was the only reply, but Tora Jens wasted no time: she moved immediately back into Janeway’s office and tapped into her computer terminal again.  
  
“What are you doing?” Seven demanded, following her.  
  
Jens didn’t answer, so Seven moved around behind the chair Tora had hastily pulled up and watched her fingers flying over the console.  
  
It didn’t take long for her to follow what the other woman was attempting – and failing – to do. Seven reached down and pressed her hand over Tora’s, stilling her movements.  
  
“I think you’d better start talking, Lieutenant.”  
  


* * *

  
  
_Kathryn_.  
  
She ignored the voice; her head ached so, and it would be so easy just to go back to sleep, maybe for a week or more …  
  
 _Kathryn, wake up_.  
  
“No,” she mumbled. “Too early.”  
  
“Kathryn, you need to wake up!”  
  
She jerked upright, or tried to, and came awake in a jolting rush when she realised she couldn’t move her arms. Forcing her eyes open and squinting against the searing light that assailed them, Kathryn sucked in air and stilled, trying to calm her spinning head.  
  
“God,” she groaned, and stopped to swallow hard as her stomach lurched.  
  
 _Too much champagne_ , her flawed memory suggested, and she tried to bring her hands down to massage away the spiking pain in her temples, only to be stopped by some kind of restraint.  
  
“What the hell –”  
  
“Kathryn,” said that insistent voice again, and her eyes went wide.  
  
“Chakotay?” she whispered, raising her aching, throbbing head.  
  
He was standing right there. Right there in front of her, barely two metres away. But how could he be there?  
  
She blinked away the dizziness and realised that he wasn’t a hallucination, or a figment of her drugged imagination. He was real. He was bare from the waist up, and his torso was covered in blackening contusions, and there was blood on his face. And his arms were shackled above his head.  
  
Just as hers were.  
  
She yanked against whatever was holding her, a whimper escaping her lips as she squinted up toward the ceiling. “What is this?” she grated. “Why am I tied up?”  
  
“Kathryn, look at me,” Chakotay said firmly. “Focus on my voice, and breathe in and out, slowly. We’re going to get out of here, okay? I promise.”  
  
Kathryn closed her eyes and breathed, letting the sound of his soft, even voice flow over her until she was pretty sure she could keep both the panic and the nausea at bay. She opened her eyes and nodded.  
  
Looking around, she saw that they were in a narrow, near-empty building of some kind; a disused storage warehouse, she surmised. The floor was dirty and there was a long stretch of grimy windows along one wall. Harsh yellow light filtered through them, but she couldn’t be sure if its source was natural.  
  
At the opposite end of the cavernous space were two Klingons in full battle regalia, both carrying oversized disruptors. Their eyes were focused on her and Chakotay. Kathryn turned away.  
  
“Where are we?” She kept her voice low.  
  
Chakotay observed her for a moment longer before replying. “Somewhere inside the Vana’diel Nebula, apparently. I heard Shinzon mention it.”  
  
“We’re in the Hyralan sector?” Kathryn felt her brow crease in bewilderment. “That’s over two days from Earth at maximum warp. How long have I been unconscious?”  
  
“They brought you in a few hours ago,” he answered. “You were obviously sedated, but for how long, I don’t know.”  
  
“We’re over thirty light years away from the Borderlands,” she said faintly, then remembered his other comment. “And who’s Shinzon?”  
  
“Apparently, he’s about to become the ruler of Romulus. Although how a human in league with Remans intends to pull that off, I’m not sure.”  
  
“My guess is it has something to do with assassinating the rest of the Romulan Senate,” Kathryn answered, “which is supposed to be happening any minute now, by my estimate.”  
  
Chakotay wrenched at his chains in frustration, only subsiding when one of the Klingons growled and took a half-step forward. “Damn it, we have to get out of here,” he muttered.  
  
“Any ideas?” She was trying to wriggle out of her cuffs without attracting attention, and wincing in pain at the fruitless effort.  
  
“I was hoping you’d come up with a brilliant plan, since I seem to be failing at it.” He huffed. “Some intelligence agent I am. I didn’t even know Entera had a facility here.”  
  
Kathryn stopped twisting and tugging at her bonds and stared at him. “Then nobody has any idea where we are.”  
  
Chakotay said nothing.  
  
“Except for one person,” she continued, her voice slack with horror. “The one person I commed after I found the evidence. Even though Owen told me not to speak to anyone.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“My aide,” whispered Kathryn. “Tora Jens. I told her I was going to be out of contact, and the next thing I knew, Ryan had abducted me and we were on his personal shuttle. Oh God, Tora has been watching me all along … spying on me, reporting back to Kjogo. She’s with Entera. She must be.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” said Chakotay, his eyes soft with sympathy.  
  
She shook her head minutely, as though that would dull the pain of yet another betrayal. “I should have known,” she muttered, her gaze sliding away from his, “but then, it’s pretty clear that I’m not the greatest judge of character where those close to me are concerned.”  
  
Chakotay frowned, but before he could question her the doors at the end of the long room slid open. Swivelling in her shackles, teetering on the stilettos she was still wearing, Kathryn watched as Ryan Austin strode toward them.  
  
He grabbed a utilitarian chair from behind a column, dragging it with him, and when he was a metre or so from where they were both suspended he sat on it, crossing one leg over the other and smirking at them each in turn.  
  
“You don’t look so good, honey,” he addressed Kathryn, his voice dripping with false concern. “Headache?”  
  
She pressed her lips together.  
  
“I could help you with that, you know,” Ryan offered. “Lay my hands on you, make you feel good.”  
  
He leaned forward, stretching out a hand until he could touch her knee, then let the tips of his fingers drift upward along her bare thigh. Kathryn jerked away, and he laughed.  
  
“Don’t touch her,” Chakotay growled.  
  
“So you can talk,” drawled Ryan. “I was starting to wonder if I should’ve just had Kash kill you back on Qualor II. Your ability to keep your mouth shut is pretty impressive, considering.”  
  
“Considering what?” Kathryn demanded. “And who the hell is Kash?”  
  
“Considering your lover’s ability to withstand Reman hospitality,” Ryan answered. “And don’t be jealous, Kathryn. It’s unbecoming.”  
  
Maybe if her head wasn’t pounding so badly she’d be able to make sense of this, but as it was, she latched onto the only thing she could unpick. “He’s not my lover,” she mumbled, staring at her feet.  
  
“Right,” said Ryan in a flat tone that indicated his utter disbelief. “I’m willing to overlook your past indiscretions, Kathryn, as long as you promise to be a good girl from now on.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” she frowned, lifting her head to squint at him.  
  
“Did you think I wouldn’t find that nasty little data chip? It was in your cloak pocket, honey. You didn’t even think to hide it in your panties.” Ryan snickered. “Not that I wouldn’t have looked there.”  
  
Kathryn’s eyes widened. _The evidence_ , she realised, staring down at herself. Her cloak was gone, and with it the precious data chip.  
  
“I’ve destroyed it,” Ryan went on, “and that’s the last time I’ll underestimate your hacking abilities, so don’t bother trying that trick again.”  
  
“What do you want from me?” she asked him, drained and dizzy.  
  
Ryan got to his feet and crowded up close to her, hands spreading around her waist, lips nuzzling at her ear.  
  
“I want everything to be the way it’s supposed to be,” he crooned, his fingers stroking upward over her ribcage as Kathryn began to tremble. “You’re going to quit Starfleet and have my children, and I’m going to be president of the Federation.”  
  
“You’re delusional,” Chakotay cut in, his voice a growl. “And if you don’t get your hands off her, I’ll kill you.”  
  
Ryan didn’t so much as glance at him. “I’ll even consider letting the captain live,” he added to Kathryn, “as long as you do as you’re told.”  
  
He cupped her breasts, stroking her through the thin material of her dress, and Kathryn moaned in despair as her body responded. She wrenched herself sideways, felt the blood begin to trickle down from her abraded wrists as she twisted in the shackles to get away from him. Her ankles buckled and she lost her footing, and Ryan laughed at her as he pulled her against his body.  
  
“Stop fighting it, Kathryn,” he ordered her, his voice almost gentle. “Just give into me. You know you want it. You know I can make you feel good. Just give in –”  
  
An insistent chirping interrupted him, and he broke off with a muttered curse. He held Kathryn’s body close with one hand, reaching into his pocket with the other.  
  
“What?” he snapped into the communicator.  
  
~It’s Kash,~ came the reply. ~You’re needed in the central complex. We’ve received a priority message.~  
  
“On my way.”  
  
Ryan closed the channel and looked down at Kathryn, his scowl morphing into a grin.  
  
“Don’t go anywhere, honey,” he mocked, releasing her. “I’ll be right back. Watch them,” he added to the Klingon guards.  
  
She slumped in the shackles as Ryan strode away, a sob catching in her throat.  
  
“Kathryn,” Chakotay whispered urgently as soon as they were alone. “Kathryn, look at me. Are you all right?”  
  
“What do you think, Chakotay?” she responded, her voice flat with exhaustion.  
  
She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, but it hurt too much to raise her head, and looking at him hurt even more.  
  
Still, if she was going to die – and she would rather die than submit to the fate Ryan had planned for her – it would be better to let him go with grace than with any regrets between them.  
  
And so Kathryn scoured the last reserves of her emotional strength, lifted her gaze to Chakotay’s, and said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”  
  


* * *

  
  
~Seven of Nine to Lieutenant Commander Kim.~  
  
Already loping down the front steps of their apartment, Harry tapped his combadge. “Go ahead, Seven.”  
  
~There has been a change of plans. Please meet me at Admiral Paris’ house.~  
  
Harry stopped short, bewildered. “Why are we going there?”  
  
~I will explain everything when I arrive. Please hurry. Seven out.~  
  
He sighed, tapping his badge to open a new channel. “Kim to Commander Paris.”  
  
~Hey, Harry.~  
  
Kim could hear Miral chattering in the background. “Are you at your mom’s?”  
  
~Yeah, just got here. Miri wanted to detour through the park, and -~  
  
“Stay where you are. Seven just told me she’s heading to your location, and so am I.”  
  
~Why would she be – Hold on, my dad just … Harry, I’ll see you when you get here. Paris out.~  
  
Harry broke into a jog.  
  
By the time he’d hopped off the Trans-Francisco and pressed the door chime at the Paris house his imagination had run wild, but it hadn't prepared him for what was to follow.  
  
Tom opened the door, freshly uniformed but with pips slightly askew and hair mussed, and grabbed Harry by the jacket front to usher him inside. “Come on, they’re waiting in the study,” he urged, then, eyes cutting over Harry’s shoulder to the woman just arriving, “Hi, Seven.”  
  
“Commander,” she responded. Harry noticed that she appeared tense and that her breathing was accelerated, and placed a calming hand on her arm.  
  
“You okay?”  
  
She nodded, then turned to Tom. “Where is Commander Torres?”  
  
“Testing her enhanced warp drive on the Sol to Vulcan run.”  
  
“The isodynamic propulsion drive?” Harry asked, distracted despite himself. “You didn’t tell me it was ready for field testing.”  
  
Tom shrugged, looking simultaneously proud and envious. “I just wish I was the test pilot.”  
  
“Her absence is unfortunate,” Seven murmured. “But we’ll adapt.”  
  
Tom led them along the vestibule, pressing his palm to a discreet panel beside the study door. It slid silently open. Inside, three men waited: Admiral Paris, who was hunched over the computer terminal at his desk and barely spared the newcomers a glance; Captain Tuvok, standing straight and still to the admiral’s left; and a human man Harry had never seen before. Aside from Seven, he was the only one in the room who was not in Starfleet uniform; slight of build, average of height, with brown hair and an unassuming countenance, he was dressed completely in black and stood calmly by the window with his hands clasped behind his back.  
  
There was something about him that raised the small hairs on the back of Harry’s neck.  
  
“Who is that?” he whispered to Tom.  
  
“Beats me,” his friend muttered back.  
  
Seven’s cool, assessing gaze swept over the man in black and her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t remark on his presence. Instead she favoured Tuvok with a terse nod then addressed Admiral Paris.  
  
“Is everyone here, Admiral?”  
  
It sounded, to Harry, as though Seven was running this briefing, or whatever it was. He exchanged another glance with Tom and saw that his friend was every bit as baffled as he was.  
  
“We’re just waiting for one more,” replied Owen Paris. A soft chime at the door made the anxious lines in his face soften slightly. “Here she is,” he muttered. “Let her in, son.”  
  
Obediently, Tom keyed open the door to admit Taela Shanthi, the former Commander-in-Chief of Starfleet.  
  
“Gentlemen,” she greeted them, moving into the centre of the room, “and Seven, of course.”  
  
Harry had to consciously remind himself to close his mouth.  
  
Shanthi locked eyes with Tom, Harry and Seven in turn. “Let me begin by saying that anything you hear or observe today must be treated in the strictest confidence,” she told them gravely. “Lives depend on your ability to keep your silence and to act without hesitation when ordered to do so by one of the command-level officers in this room. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Harry said smartly, echoed a moment later by Tom. Seven gave a short nod.  
  
“Good. We have a lot to cover, so please save your questions for the end.”  
  
And she began to talk.  
  
“Several hours ago, while on a mission posing as an enemy operative, Captain Chakotay broke cover and attempted to contact his sister on Trebus, presumably to warn her of President Zife’s intent to allow Cardassian mining on the planet and inquire after her safety. He failed to reach her and has since gone missing.”  
  
Harry’s breath caught in his chest.  
  
“Shortly thereafter, Admiral Janeway, who was also working covertly,” at this, Shanthi briefly glared at the man in black, then continued, “apparently found evidence of a conspiracy to assassinate several members of the Romulan Senate with the intention of destabilising the Empire and installing a Reman in the power vacuum. She reported this to Admiral Paris and promptly disappeared.”  
  
“Oh, fuck,” blurted Tom, then clamped his mouth shut. “Pardon me, Admiral.”  
  
Shanthi spared him a brief nod. “We believe Admiral Janeway and Captain Chakotay have been abducted by an organisation known as the Entera Coalition. The goal of this coalition appears to be political and economic control over the resources and superpowers of the Alpha and Beta quadrants, and in that, they have almost succeeded. Along with their Reman and Romulan allies, their members include highly placed officials in the Klingon and Regulan governments, Caretaker Sikola of the Cardassian Union, several Starfleet flag officers, Councillor Ryan Austin and President Min Zife.”  
  
“Janeway’s _husband_ is involved in this?”  
  
“Tom,” growled Owen Paris warningly, but the younger Paris was already holding up a hand in apology.  
  
“Starfleet Intelligence,” Shanthi paused momentarily, “and its … unofficial allies … have been working for some time to bring down Entera, but it appears the coalition is several steps ahead of us. Entera have manipulated the political situation across the quadrant to their advantage without regard for life or liberty. Now your former commanding officers’ lives are in danger, along with the knowledge they each possess, which could be the key to bringing down Entera with minimal bloodshed.”  
  
She looked at the three of them solemnly.  
  
“So we’re going to save them.”  
  
Harry felt like he was waking up from anaesthesia; he could barely keep up with the hammer-blows of information Admiral Shanthi was dealing them. “May we ask questions now, sir?”  
  
Shanthi’s dark eyes flashed amusement. “Go ahead.”  
  
“How can we help?”  
  
“I’m glad you asked, Commander Kim. You and your companions are here today partly because your association with the two officers in question will, I hope, make you highly motivated to retrieve them, and partly because you each have a special skillset or knowledge that will be of vital importance.”  
  
Shanthi turned to the other officers in the room for the first time.  
  
“I’ve temporarily commandeered the USS _Mehit_ , and Captain Tuvok will assume command for the duration of this mission. Commander Kim and Seven of Nine: you will perform the functions of chief engineer and astrometrics officer, respectively; your intimate familiarity with the _Mehit_ ’s sensor technology should offer a distinct advantage.”  
  
“Excuse me, Admiral,” Kim ventured, “but how will that help us?”  
  
“Admiral, if I may?” Tuvok cut in smoothly.  
  
“By all means.”  
  
Tuvok turned to Kim. “During my time as a covert operative, I was able to determine the unique warp resonance frequencies of many Entera vessels. Since Captain Chakotay returned to his undercover assignment two weeks ago he has supplied me with several more, including that of the shuttle owned by his contact, a Trialan named Kash. It’s reasonable to assume that, should we trace that shuttle’s warp frequency, we may be able to track Chakotay’s current location and from there, Admiral Janeway’s. However, Kash’s shuttle could now be anywhere within five sectors of space. Our chances of locating it will be greatly increased with your expertise and the sensors you and Seven designed.”  
  
“I won’t let you down, sir,” Harry promised.  
  
Shanthi waited until all eyes had returned to her, then continued: “The _Mehit_ will carry a skeleton crew, all of whom I’ve personally vetted, and a strike team. When we’ve located Janeway and Chakotay, the rescue team will approach on board a specially customised _Delta Flyer_ -model shuttlecraft.”  
  
Tom’s eyes lit up.  
  
“I thought that would interest you, Commander Paris,” Shanthi said dryly. “The _Alpha Flyer_ is a prototype outfitted with refractive shielding and an isodynamic propulsion drive. That should help you get the strike team in close without being detected, and give you a quick getaway when they’ve retrieved the hostages.”  
  
“Me?” Tom asked faintly. “I’m going to pilot it?”  
  
“Try to contain your excitement, Tom – there is a mission at stake,” but Shanthi smiled at him before she turned to his father. “Owen, you’ll coordinate the rescue effort from here and run interference with any of Entera’s representatives on Earth, should that be necessary.”  
  
“What about you, Taela?” Owen Paris’s voice was gruff.  
  
“Me? Oh, I’ll be the one throwing myself into the line of fire, so to speak,” Shanthi said airily.  
  
“You’re going to cause a media storm to distract Entera,” he deduced.  
  
“No,” she replied. “To get their attention. Zife’s expecting me to fight my expulsion through proper channels, like a good Starfleet officer. He won’t anticipate me coming at him in public, and he doesn’t handle curve balls well.”  
  
“So you want him off-balance. Making mistakes.”  
  
Shanthi inclined her head. “Any more questions?”  
  
When none were forthcoming, she allowed her stance to relax fractionally, turning to the other woman in the room.  
  
“Over to you, Seven.”  
  
“Thank you, Admiral,” Seven said smoothly.  
  
Harry’s eyes went wide in shock. “You _knew_ about this?” he murmured to his girlfriend.   
  
“Not until recently.” Seven reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small object which she held out for their inspection on her open palm. “This data chip contains evidence of what I believe to be the next stage in Entera’s endgame – the execution en masse of the Romulan Senate – as well as communications which implicate Entera in the recent assassination of Castellan Alon Ghemor of Cardassia. It also contains a detailed record of Chancellor Martok’s travel and appointment schedule for the upcoming week. I can only surmise that the Chancellor is Entera’s next intended target.”  
  
“Seven, where did you get that?” Harry breathed.  
  
A flicker of discomfort crossed Seven’s face and she glanced at Shanthi as if for instruction, but the fleet admiral held up a hand to stall her.  
  
“This isn’t the time for non-essential questions,” Shanthi said firmly. “You have a mission to accomplish and very little time in which to execute it, so unless anyone has any further pressing concerns…?”  
  
“Only one,” replied Seven, and turned her cool blue gaze on the man in black, still standing silent and motionless by the window. “Who are you?”  
  
For the first time, the man spoke. “I’m someone who is well acquainted with the missing assets, particularly Captain Chakotay,” he replied, lips curving upward in a small smile. “My name is Jonah Miles, and I’m here to ensure this mission succeeds.”  
  


* * *

  
  
“I know about Section 31,” Kathryn said, keeping her voice low so that the Klingon guards couldn’t hear her. “I know you’ve been working for them. I have, too.”  
  
She forced herself to meet Chakotay’s eyes and found him staring at her.  
  
“ _What_?” he whispered after several beats of silence.  
  
“Not as long as you have, obviously.” She looked away again. “I was only recruited a few weeks ago. Apparently I was in the right place at the right time.”  
  
“Kathryn,” Chakotay spoke through gritted teeth, “I think you’d better tell me everything.”  
  
“All right,” she said. “A man appeared in my office one night and told me he represented a covert agency that does the dirty work Starfleet can’t; a kind of Tal Shiar for the Federation. He claimed you were working for them to bring down the Entera Coalition, but that your posting on the _Zapata_ meant you weren’t able to spy on Entera’s inner circle.”  
  
She paused to breathe through a surge of nausea, and could hear Chakotay’s teeth grinding.  
  
“He recruited me to take on that mission,” she carried on. “I guess it was the perfect solution … me being married to one of Entera’s chief conspirators. Oh, I’m sure Mr Miles was suspicious of me, too, but –”  
  
“Wait,” Chakotay interrupted. “Did you say _Miles_? Jonah Miles?”  
  
“That’s right.”  
  
Her eyebrows rose at the torrent of expletives that poured from him in response.  
  
“I’m going to _kill_ him,” Chakotay growled. “He was supposed to be keeping you safe, not putting you in the line of fire!”  
  
“You told him about us,” Kathryn whispered, eyes widening in horror. “That’s how he knew about –”  
  
She cut herself off abruptly.  
  
“Knew about what?” but then Chakotay’s own expression changed. “Oh,” he said softly. “Ajilon Prime.”  
  
Kathryn hadn’t thought anything could hurt more than the moment Jonah Miles had told her she’d been nothing but an asset to Chakotay, just someone he could leverage for the sake of the assignment, but now … Her throat was closing over, her chest tight, her eyes blurring with helpless tears.  
  
He hadn't just slept with her to further his mission. He’d shared that secret with Section 31, and allowed them to use it to manipulate her.  
  
And she was so very, very tired of being manipulated.  
  
“Just tell me one thing, Chakotay,” she forced out against the twisting, choking pain. “Was the payoff worth the wait?”  
  
He stared at her, and through the sheen of her tears she couldn’t be sure if his eyes held pity or disdain.  
  
“Kathryn,” he said, “what are you talking about? What payoff?”  
  
“ _Seven years_ , Chakotay! Whatever else we were, I always believed we were friends … at least until the end … but maybe it’s my fault,” she broke off, heaving in air, grasping for control. “I killed it – I killed us. At the end of it all there was nothing left … _nothing_ … and that’s how you could use me like that.”  
  
She was really crying now, her words jumbled and choked out between sobs. Her head was splitting, but it was nothing compared to her heart.  
  
“I hope it was worth it, Chakotay,” she hiccupped. “Hope I wasn’t too much of a disappointment after all those years. Hope I was a decent fuck, even if I was a lousy excuse for a friend…”  
  
Head hanging, she dissolved into weak, muffled, hopeless sobs, pathetic small sounds of anguish that seemed so loud in the silence. Eventually, drained of energy, even those died away to nothing.  
  
It was only then that she realised Chakotay was silent too. He couldn’t even be bothered to offer feeble apologies, let alone denials.  
  
 _So this is it_ , Kathryn thought, dizzy with grief. _There’s really nothing left of us at all_.  
  
Then everything got even worse.  
  
“I thought you said he wasn’t your lover, honey,” came the hated voice of her husband, her captor and tormentor. “What else have you been lying to me about?”  
  
Raising her aching head, Kathryn looked into the dark, despairing eyes of the man she loved – the man who had been rendered mute by the disruptor muzzle shoved in his mouth by the monster she’d married.


	21. Lies and Revelations

Cause we're joined at the heart  
Beats faster, hits harder than a boxer  
Whenever we are apart  
Body language is an SOS  
James, _Don’t Wait That Long_  
  


* * *

  
  
**_Chapter Twenty: Lies and Revelations_**  
 _October, 2379_  
  
  
“Well?” Ryan demanded. “Answer me.”  
  
She watched through a film of tears as Ryan angled the disruptor pistol, pushing it upward into Chakotay’s soft palate. Chakotay flinched, tension bunching in his shackled arms as he tried to angle his head away.  
  
“Please don’t hurt him,” she blurted.   
  
“Why shouldn’t I?” Ryan taunted, twisting the disruptor viciously.  
  
“Because I’m not lying.”  
  
“Don’t insult me, Kathryn.” Scowling, Ryan yanked the weapon away, letting his hand drop to his side as Chakotay turned to spit blood onto the floor. “You’ve been lying to me all along. Making a fool of me, screwing him behind my back. How long has it been going on? Since you went to Ajilon, or before that?” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “Since the Delta quadrant?”  
  
“I never lied to you about that,” Kathryn pleaded with him. “We were never lovers in the Delta quadrant.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Ryan shifted close to her, raising one hand to tangle in her hair, tipping her head back to force her eyes to his. “Tell me the truth, or I’ll kill him.”  
  
“I am telling you the truth,” she whispered, eyes begging him to believe her. “It was on Ajilon Prime, right after you …” she bit back the accusatory words, afraid they would only make him angrier, “right after we … had a misunderstanding. I was upset with you, remember? And I was drinking, and he was there.”  
  
She swallowed, blinking back tears.  
  
“But it only happened once, Ryan, I swear to you. You don’t have to hurt him, because you have nothing to worry about where he’s concerned.”  
  
Ryan released his grip on her hair, his hand sliding around to encircle her throat instead, and Kathryn couldn’t help her sharp intake of breath.  
  
“If you believe that, Kathryn,” he told her in a voice soft with menace, “you’re even more of a fool than I thought you were.”  
  
“Then I guess I’m a fool,” she said harshly, not trying to move away from his casually threatening grasp. “He slept with me to … divert my suspicions about him, or to obtain information from me … or maybe both. And I was … convenient, and … and willing.” She closed her eyes. “But it didn’t mean anything. Not to him, at least.”  
  
“That’s not true.”  
  
Kathryn’s eyes opened. Chakotay was staring directly at her, speaking to her as though they were the only people in the room, or the galaxy.  
  
“I never lied to you about my motives, Kathryn,” he told her, the conviction in his tone cutting through the pounding of her head. “And they were never that complicated where you were concerned.”  
  
He broke off on a wince as Ryan shoved the muzzle of the disruptor against his ribs.  
  
“Thank you, Captain, for your input,” Ryan said with heavy sarcasm. “It’s time for you to shut up now. Kathryn, I’m going to ask you another question,” he continued, turning back to her. “But before I do, you should know that for every lie you tell me, the captain here will suffer.”  
  
She dragged her gaze away from Chakotay’s with difficulty. “What do you want from me?”  
  
Ryan’s hand tightened fractionally around her throat. “I want to know who you told about what was on that little data chip I found in your pocket.”  
  
“Please, Ryan, think about what you’re doing. People are going to notice we’re missing –”  
  
He shook her by the throat, cutting off both speech and air, and leaned down so that his mouth almost touched hers. “Somebody already noticed,” he ground out as she struggled against his imprisoning fist. “That’s why I was summoned to the central complex – there was a message from Earth. There’s a team out looking for you right now. Oh, don’t get excited,” he laughed at her as she went still in his grasp. “They’ll never find you. Not in time to save your lover, anyway.”  
  
Ryan’s grip loosened a little, allowing Kathryn to gulp in air, and he moved aside deliberately so that she could see the way his disruptor was digging into the flesh of Chakotay’s abdomen.  
  
“Kathryn, don’t give him what he wants,” Chakotay forced out through clenched teeth. “Just hold on.”  
  
“Last chance, honey,” Ryan warned her. “You lie, and he dies.”  
  
And he raised the hand holding the disruptor pistol, backhanding Chakotay across the face with it. Blood sprayed in an arc from his lacerated cheekbone, and when his head swivelled back in her direction Kathryn saw that his eye was already swelling.  
  
“Stop it,” she begged.  
  
“Then start talking.”  
  
“All right,” Kathryn whispered. “I called Owen Paris.”  
  
Ryan sighed theatrically. “There, was that so hard? Still, it’s the obvious answer, isn’t it – your mentor, Captain Chakotay’s superior officer … Who else knows?”  
  
“Nobody else.”  
  
Ryan holstered the disruptor in favour of delivering a punishing jab-straight combination to Chakotay’s solar plexus that made him grunt in pain and hunch over as much as the overhead shackles allowed him.  
  
“Ryan, _stop_!” Kathryn yanked at her own chains, her body swaying involuntarily toward Chakotay’s. “I didn’t tell anyone else about the chip!”  
  
“Then I guess I can kill your lover now and be done with it.”  
  
“No!” she burst out, then, “Ryan, if you hurt him … if you hold us hostage … how long do you think you’ll get away with this? How much longer do you think the public will be fooled?”  
  
“Long enough,” he told her with a slow smile that turned her spine to ice.  
  
“Austin.” Chakotay’s voice was rough, but his tone of command was unmistakeable.  
  
Ryan glanced at him, then back at Kathryn. “You heard me before, right? You’re not staying here. You’re coming home with me, and everything’s going back to the way it was.”  
  
He slid his hands onto her hips, pulling her toward him, and Kathryn’s heart rate tripped into double time. She wanted to run, to freeze, to free herself so she could grab the nearest weapon and plunge it into his heart.  
  
She wanted to melt against him, to let him kiss her and touch her until the pain and the desperation ebbed away, until she couldn’t think anymore.  
  
“You don’t have to worry about anything.” Ryan lifted a hand to her face, angling it to trace his lips along her jaw. “I’ll make you forget about him.”  
  
His mouth brushed hers. The ache in her head subsided and she began to lean into him, her eyes closing in relief. His other hand stroked slowly upward and as he cupped her breast, she parted her lips to allow his tongue inside.  
  
Chakotay turned his head to the side, spat more blood onto the floor and growled, “ _Austin_.”  
  
Kathryn’s eyes flashed open and she jerked back from Ryan. At the sudden movement and the loss of his hands on her body, white-hot pain slammed through her head and she gasped, doubling over as far as her chained wrists would let her.  
  
“You’re a coward,” she heard Chakotay say in a voice ice-cold with loathing.  
  
She could barely process his words through the waves of nausea, but she thought, _I know, Chakotay_ , and was glad that she already hurt so badly that this new insult barely dented her.  
  
But Chakotay was still talking. “You’re pathetic,” he said. “You’ll only stand up to people who can’t fight back.”  
  
Even through the ringing in her ears, Kathryn couldn’t understand that.  
  
“Look at her,” said Chakotay, voice rising. “Look what you’ve done to her! You’ve done what seven years in the Delta quadrant couldn’t do. She’s the strongest, bravest, most remarkable person I’ve ever known, and you’ve done everything you can to strip that from her.”  
  
Kathryn blinked, listening as intently as she could, even though her focus was wavering and her vision tunnelling.  
  
Chakotay was talking about _her_. _She_ was the most remarkable person he’d ever known.  
  
And, even through the cotton wool her mind had become since the suppressant had worn off, she couldn’t imagine him describing her that way if he felt nothing for her anymore.  
  
“But you couldn’t do it without cheating,” Chakotay went on, low with venom. “You’re a walking biological weapon, Austin, and you use your genetic abilities to lay waste to people’s lives. Like Kathryn’s life. Like your ex-wife’s.”  
  
It took immense effort, but Kathryn lifted her head. She wanted to see the expression on Ryan’s face.  
  
She wasn’t disappointed: his blue eyes, usually so affable, were narrowed with spite, and the face she’d always thought handsome now seemed malevolent and cold.  
  
“What do you know about my ex-wife?”  
  
Chakotay straightened up, ignoring the blood dripping from his chin. “I know her name is Maja Hansen,” he answered, each word dropping like stones into the space between them. “I know she’s never going to leave the psychiatric hospital on Vega Colony where you hid her twenty-five years ago. And I know about the baby. Your child.”  
  
There was silence, thick and weighted, for an unfathomable stretch of time.  
  
Then Ryan grated, “ _What_ child?”  
  


* * *

  
  
As soon as they’d materialised on the transporter pad of the USS _Mehit_ , Kim and Seven had set out for main engineering and the astrometrics lab respectively, and Tom had fallen in to Tuvok’s left as they strode along the corridors. The man in black, though several centimetres shorter than both officers, had easily kept pace with them. Now he sat calmly in the observer’s chair on the bridge, just to Tom’s left.  
  
Tom had been slightly taken aback when Tuvok indicated he should take the first officer’s seat rather than the helm, but the reason soon became clear: the console between the command chairs lit up with a holographic projection of space that spanned the region between the Borderlands and the Romulan Neutral Zone, and Tuvok gestured for him to study it.  
  
“Captain Chakotay’s last transmission before he disappeared originated in the vicinity of the Qualor system,” Tuvok told Tom. “As he was attempting to reach Trebus, it’s logical to assume he would have travelled in this direction.”  
  
He traced the route with a finger.  
  
“However, given that Entera’s base of operations is located here,” Tuvok pointed to the Celendi Nebula, several sectors away from Chakotay’s last known position, “we will need to scan a large region of space if we hope to find him.”  
  
Moments later, Seven contacted the bridge.  
  
~I have located a warp resonance trail matching the frequency of Kash’s shuttle,~ she announced. ~The isotope decay rate suggests that the shuttle has not exited the Hyralan sector within the past six hours.~  
  
On the holographic display, Tuvok immediately zoomed in on the Hyralan sector.  
  
“Why there?” Tom wondered aloud. “It’s nowhere near the Borderlands, and I thought that was supposed to be the hot spot.”  
  
“For some time I have suspected that the coalition has a second base of operations in a less obvious location,” Tuvok allowed. “Perhaps we will find it in this sector.”  
  
Jonah Miles spoke for the first time, his voice deceptively mild. “You neglected to report that suspicion to me, Captain Tuvok.”  
  
“Why would Tuvok have to report to _you_?” Tom cut in.  
  
“Commander,” Tuvok reproved him, then carried on smoothly, “Seven, can you locate the shuttle now?”  
  
~I cannot,~ she replied. ~Nor have I identified any other Entera vessels in the region.~  
  
Tuvok rose from his seat and addressed the ensign at the helm. “Set a course for the Hyralan sector and engage at maximum warp,” he ordered, then turned back to Tom and Jonah Miles. “Perhaps proximity will increase our ability to detect the shuttle.”  
  
“Actually,” said Miles, his tone casual, “there might be another way.”  
  
~Explain,~ Seven demanded over the open channel.  
  
“Let’s just say that we equipped Admiral Janeway with a homing signal.”  
  
Tuvok raised an eyebrow. “I am aware that the admiral was allocated a personal transport device. Admiral Paris has already scanned for it. It has been deactivated or destroyed.”  
  
“I’m not talking about her transporter.” Miles produced a padd, fingers flying over its surface. “I’m sending Seven of Nine a resonance frequency. Your astrometric sensors should be able to detect it.”  
  
~Received,~ came Seven’s reply, then a moment later: ~This frequency is emanating from a biochemical compound in microscopic form.~  
  
“Biochemical?” Tom frowned. “What is it?”  
  
“It’s a slow-release, nanomedical pheromone suppressant,” answered Jonah Miles. “I administered it to Admiral Janeway several weeks ago.”  
  
“I think you’d better explain,” Tom growled at him.  
  
Miles waved a hand. “My intentions were benign, Commander, I assure you. The suppressant assisted her in maintaining her physiological health and emotional control, both of which were necessary if she were to succeed in her mission.”  
  
“What mission?” Tom demanded. “This covert assignment Admiral Shanthi told us about? What was Janeway doing?”  
  
Again, Tuvok intervened. “Admiral Janeway was doing her duty,” he responded to Tom. “That, I believe, is all the information you are entitled to.”  
  
Tom opened his mouth to object.  
  
“Stand down, Commander Paris,” Tuvok warned him, and, grudgingly, he subsided.  
  
He’d forgotten Seven was still on the other end of the open comm line until she spoke.  
  
~I have detected traces of the biochemical suppressant in the vicinity of the Vana’diel Nebula,~ she announced. ~The signal is intermittent.~  
  
“The nanites are breaking down,” Miles said. “I expect the suppressant’s effectiveness is wearing off. Well, Captain,” he turned to Tuvok, “seems like we’ve found Entera’s secondary base. It’s a shame neither you nor Captain Chakotay managed to locate it sooner, but with any luck we’ll get there in time to retrieve our assets alive.”  
  
Tuvok’s gaze found the man in black’s, and for the briefest of moments, Tom wondered if the Vulcan was about to hit the smaller man.  
  
Instead, Tuvok asked, “Ensign Trabin, distance to the Vana’diel Nebula?”  
  
“Thirty-six light years, sir,” the young woman replied. “At maximum warp, we’re still eighteen hours away.”  
  
“We’ll never get to them in time,” muttered Tom.  
  
“Yes, we will.” Jonah Miles stood smoothly. “Report to the shuttle bay, Commander.”  
  
The _Alpha Flyer_ was, as Shanthi had hinted, clearly a sister of the vessel Tom, B’Elanna and Harry had designed in the Delta quadrant, although the cockpit controls had – to Tom’s disappointment – been replaced by something a little more ‘fleet-issue. And when he slipped behind the helm and cast his gaze over the panel, he felt that same tightening in the pit of his stomach that he’d felt the first time his father let him take the controls in a class one shuttle.  
  
“The fleet admiral wasn’t kidding about this baby,” he murmured as Tuvok slid into the co-pilot’s seat. “Refractive shielding, isodynamic warp drive … B’Elanna is gonna be so mad she missed the fun.”  
  
“As the designer of the isodynamic propulsion system, Commander Torres has no doubt observed the _fun_ countless times.”  
  
“Yeah, on the holodeck,” Tom retorted. “And by now I guess she’s seen it in action on the Earth to Vulcan milk-run. Can’t compare to a high-stakes stealth mission to rescue Janeway and Chakotay, though, can it?”  
  
Before Tuvok could reply, he glanced over his shoulder at the rear of the cockpit. Harry Kim sat at engineering, Seven at the science station, and Jonah Miles had folded himself neatly behind the auxiliary console.  
  
“Everybody buckled in?” Tom called, and without waiting for an answer he punched the controls and rocketed out of the _Mehit_ ’s shuttlebay into open space.  
  
As soon as they were clear, Tuvok ordered: “Commander Kim, bring the enhanced drive online.”  
  
The feeling of slipping into high warp instantly, more smoothly than any ship he’d ever piloted before, put a grin on Tom’s face that he didn’t even try to hide despite the gravity of their mission. “My wife built this,” he whooped, watching the stars stream by.  
  
“Time to our destination?” Tuvok asked.  
  
“One hour, twenty-six minutes,” Harry Kim piped up from his second-row seat. “Wow. B’Elanna should win the Cochrane Medal for designing this engine.”  
  
“Well, if you’ll excuse me,” Jonah Miles murmured, slipping out of his seat and moving toward the rear cabin, “I have a call to make.”  
  
As soon as the hatch slid shut behind him, Tom glanced sidelong at Tuvok. “So, Captain, are you going to fill us in? Who’s the spook? Why did he give Janeway a pheromone suppressant?”  
  
His pleasure at piloting the _Alpha Flyer_ drained away as anger swelled in his chest and hardened his tone.  
  
“I’m guessing her undercover mission involved spying on Councillor Austin. What the hell possessed you to let her put herself in danger like that?”  
  
“Mr Paris,” Tuvok replied, “I’m aware that you are emotional about this situation, but you are bordering on insubordination. Please calm yourself.”  
  
Tom wrestled his fury back under control.  
  
“I beg your pardon, Captain,” he said stiffly. “I’m sure the admiral was a very logical choice for the mission, but I’m not the only one who must have been … emotional … to learn about it. So please, explain to me: how come _Chakotay_ was okay with her sleeping with the enemy?”  
  
Tuvok was quiet for a moment, then: “To my knowledge, Captain Chakotay was not informed of Admiral Janeway’s assignment. However, if he has been made aware of it now, I expect that he is not _okay with it_.”  
  
“You’d better believe that,” muttered Tom, and settled back in silence until Harry spoke up.  
  
“We’re twenty minutes out from the Vana’diel Nebula,” he said. “Seven, are you picking up Kash’s shuttle on the sensors yet?”  
  
“No. However, I am detecting an artificially pressured biosphere on a class-K planet thirty million kilometres inside the nebula. It appears to be protected by multi-adaptive shielding.” Seven paused. “The shielding is identical to that designed by Magnus and Erin Hansen as a defence against the Borg.”  
  
“Your parents?” Tom confirmed, and at Seven’s nod, he went on: “In other words, this Entera Coalition has access to classified Federation technology. I guess that explains how they got Janeway here so fast. Whoever abducted her must have a ship outfitted with an enhanced warp drive.”  
  
“Just like this one,” Harry muttered.  
  
“If Entera has a vessel equipped with an isodynamic propulsion drive, it will be emitting a unique form of subspace radiation, even if its core is off-line,” Seven said. “Scanning for the radiation … I’ve detected a concentration of it within the biosphere, in proximity to a small shuttlecraft. There is also a warp trail, approximately six hours old, that runs on a parallel course to our own. The resonance signal does not match any of the frequencies supplied by Captain Tuvok, but …” she hesitated, fingers flying over her console, “I have identified the vessel’s call sign. It is registered with the Federation civilian database as the _Delta Queen_ , call number TQE-01-omega.”  
  
“TQE?” Tom repeated. “As in Trans-Quadrant Express? Ryan Austin’s courier company?”  
  
Seven didn’t bother to reply.  
  
Tom mumbled a string of curses under his breath that his wife would have been proud of.  
  
“Status of our refractive shielding, Mr Kim?” Tuvok asked.  
  
“We’re at full strength, Captain. Nobody has detected us, unless they’ve somehow got hold of our shield frequency.”  
  
“Good. However, we must approach with caution. Mr Paris, slow to impulse.”  
  
“Aye,” said Tom, taking the isodynamic drive off-line.  
  
As the shuttle decelerated, his console beeped a warning.  
  
“Whoa … proximity alert! A ship is approaching at high warp … They must have detected us somehow. They’re slowing … they’re at full stop right alongside us.”  
  
“Identify,” said Tuvok.  
  
Tom punched a few buttons, then started to laugh. “You’re not gonna believe this.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Harry muttered from behind him. “Sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”  
  
“Well, this is gonna make you wonder what was in your eggs. Take a look,” and Tom activated the viewscreen.  
  
Poised in space beside them was the USS _Voyager_.  
  
“We are being hailed,” Seven announced, just as Jonah Miles emerged from the rear cabin and slid back into his seat.  
  
“Open a channel,” Tuvok ordered, then, “ _Alpha Flyer_ to _Voyager_ , come in.”  
  
~This is Commander Sereni, acting captain of _Voyager_. Sorry to surprise you, Captain.~  
  
“No apology is necessary, Commander. I recommend you reactivate your refractive shielding before you are detected.”  
  
~Acknowledged,~ Sereni replied, and a moment later the image of _Voyager_ shimmered and disappeared from the viewscreen.  
  
A familiar voice came over the comm line.  
  
~Hey, flyboy. How d’you like my new engines?~  
  
“B’Elanna?” Tom demanded, eyes wide. “What are you doing over there?”  
  
~I told you today was the big field test.~ He could hear the smirk in her voice. ~I just didn’t mention we were testing the new drive on _Voyager_ … or on the new _Flyer_ s.~  
  
“Consider me amazed,” he parried.  
  
“Commander Sereni,” Tuvok broke in, “I recommend you hold _Voyager_ ’s position while we approach the biodome. If Entera possesses isodynamic warp capability, it is possible they are also aware of the refractive shielding technology. They may be able to detect our presence.”  
  
~Understood. We’ll keep a sensor lock on your shuttle. _Voyager_ out.~  
  
“Mr Kim,” Tuvok ordered, closing the channel, “find a way to transport our rescue team through the biosphere’s shielding without being detected.”  
  
“I’m repolarising our hull to match the shield frequency of the biodome complex,” Harry answered, hands already busy on his console. “We’ll need to drop our own shields to transport, though.”  
  
“Mr Paris, align our approach trajectory to bring us in behind the limb of the planet. That should minimise the likelihood that we’ll be detected.”  
  
“Aye,” Tom answered. “One minute to transport range.”  
  
Tuvok turned toward the rear of the shuttle. “For the duration of the rescue, Mr Miles will take point. Mr Kim, Seven – you will follow his orders without question. Is that understood?”  
  
Tom glanced back in time to see Seven and Harry exchange a glance before they chorused, “Yes, Captain.”  
  
“We’re in range,” Tom informed them.  
  
Jonah Miles rose from his chair and moved toward the transporter pad. “Strike team, lock down your consoles and take position. Standard defensive formation.”  
  
Harry, Seven and Tuvok arranged themselves beside him, each of them armed, each facing outward in a different direction.  
  
“Maintain an open comm link, Mr Paris,” Tuvok ordered. “Lower shields for transport.”  
  
Tom nodded. “Energising,” he announced, and watched them dematerialise.  
  


* * *

  
  
“You didn’t _know_?” Chakotay squinted at Ryan Austin through his one good eye; the other was so swollen and bloodshot it was all but useless. “How could you not know?”  
  
“Of course I knew Maja was pregnant,” Austin snarled. “But he was supposed to take care of that. He told me he’d deal with it.”  
  
“Your father,” Chakotay realised. “The admiral. He took care of everything for you, didn’t he? Covering up your indiscretions, cleaning up your mess.”  
  
He paused to spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor.  
  
“I guess forcing your ex-wife to terminate her pregnancy was a step too far, even for him,” he continued. “So he lied to you instead, and had the baby secretly adopted. He covered his tracks so well that you never even knew. But you can’t hide something like that forever.”  
  
To his relief, Austin moved away from Kathryn and focused his entire attention on Chakotay instead, shoving the disruptor under Chakotay’s jaw.  
  
“Prove it,” Austin demanded.  
  
Chakotay huffed out a laugh. “Sure,” he answered tightly, voice strained by the pressure of the disruptor muzzle. “Turn yourself in and I’ll prove whatever you want.”  
  
Behind Austin, he could see Kathryn watching them: pale, trembling, but focused on their conversation. She was twisting her wrists inside the shackles and he could see blood running down her arms.  
  
“Or I could just kill you,” Austin said. “Then it wouldn’t matter, because nobody would ever be able to prove a thing.”  
  
“No,” Kathryn blurted, “Ryan, don’t …”  
  
Austin swung around to face her, letting the pistol drop from Chakotay’s throat.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry, honey,” he mocked her. “I wouldn’t disown our child.”  
  
Kathryn shrank away from him as he moved toward her. “Don’t touch me,” she spat. “Don’t ever touch me again.”  
  
The smirk dropped from his lips. “You ungrateful bitch –”  
  
He raised his free hand to slap her across the face.  
  
“ _Austin_ ,” bellowed Chakotay, wrenching at his chains in his desperation to stop the incoming blow.  
  
The sizzle of phaser fire distracted them all, and Austin’s arm dropped to his side as he spun to face the far end of the room. One of the Klingon guards was already laid out on the floor. The other fell: heavily stunned or dead, Chakotay couldn’t be sure.  
  
Into the open space charged Harry Kim and Seven of Nine, phaser rifles trained on Austin.  
  
“Drop your weapon,” Kim shouted at him.  
  
Austin fired at him instead, hitting Kim in the shoulder and knocking him to the ground, then immediately ducked behind Chakotay, using him as cover.  
  
“Commander,” Seven called, but Harry didn’t respond. She glanced at his fallen form for a split second, but it was long enough: when her focus returned to Ryan Austin, he was aiming his disruptor directly at her.  
  
“Why don’t you drop _your_ weapon, sweetheart?” Austin jeered at her. “Looks like I have the advantage here.”  
  
Slowly, Seven lowered her phaser.  
  
“That’s right,” Austin taunted. “Put it on the floor and come closer. Hands where I can see them.”  
  
Seven followed his orders, moving to stand beside Chakotay. “Are you all right, Captain?” she asked quietly.  
  
“I’m fine,” he said, voice flat. “But the admiral needs immediate medical attention.”  
  
“Oh, she’ll be all right,” Austin assured him. “I’ll take care of her.”  
  
He wrapped an arm around Kathryn’s waist, the pistol in his other hand and pointed unwaveringly at Chakotay and Seven. Kathryn wilted against Austin’s supporting arm, head hanging; as far as Chakotay could tell, she was almost unconscious.  
  
“Look at this, honey,” Austin was saying, his mouth close to Kathryn’s ear. “I’m gonna kill your lover _and_ your foster daughter. I think that means I win.”  
  
Then a voice came from behind them.  
  
“Think again.”  
  
Chakotay swivelled in his shackles. Standing behind him, dressed entirely in black and toting a phaser trained directly on Ryan Austin’s centre mass, was Tora Jens.  
  
“Tora?” came Kathryn’s husky, disbelieving voice. “But I thought –”  
  
“You thought I was Entera. I know, Admiral, and I’m sorry for deceiving you.” Jens stepped cautiously to her right, clearly angling for a better line of sight on Austin. “Now,” she addressed him, “let the admiral go.”  
  
Instead of obeying, Austin hauled Kathryn in front of his body and aimed his disruptor toward Jens.  
  
“Or what?” he taunted. “You’ll shoot me? I don’t think so. You’re Starfleet.”  
  
“Yes, I am,” Tora Jens replied. “But I’m not your typical Starfleet officer.”  
  
Chakotay looked between Jens and Kathryn, who was pale as milk and lolling against her husband as though her legs would no longer support her.  
  
“Who do you work for?” he asked the lieutenant, although he was almost certain he knew the answer.  
  
“The same agency you do, Captain.” Jens flicked a glance at Chakotay before turning back to Kathryn. “I was assigned to protect you, Admiral, and now I can finally fulfil my mission.”  
  
She fixed her stare on Ryan Austin.  
  
“Release the admiral,” she demanded, “and I’ll set my weapon to stun instead of kill.”  
  
Austin barked out a laugh and swung the point of his disruptor from Jens to Chakotay to Seven. “Now, which one should I kill first, Kathryn?” he teased, lips close to her ear. “Your lover, your surrogate daughter, or your so-called protector?”  
  
Lightning-fast, Jens moved to stand in front of Seven.  
  
“Lieutenant,” Seven growled. “Stand aside.”  
  
“No,” retorted Jens. “I’m not letting him hurt you.”  
  
The muzzle of Austin’s pistol wavered. “Why the hell do you care about _her_?” he demanded of Jens.  
  
Chakotay, who was wondering the same thing, looked from Tora Jens to Seven of Nine, noted the straight, slender figures, the full lips and blue eyes, and suddenly knew the truth even as Jens spoke it.  
  
“I _care_ ,” Tora said clearly, “because she’s my cousin. And there’s only one member of this family who’s going to die today … _Dad_.”  
  
There was silence.  
  
The disruptor wobbled in Austin’s loosened grip.  
  
With a desperate sob, Kathryn yanked so hard against her cuffs that she dislocated her thumb, allowing her to slip her hand free and grab for the disruptor. But she fumbled, unable to grasp it properly, and Chakotay could only watch with growing dread as Austin tried to wrench the pistol from her.  
  
In the ensuing struggle, Chakotay heard the sizzle and saw the flash of energy as Austin’s weapon discharged.  
  
Kathryn slumped to the floor, her body hanging limply by one shackled wrist; Ryan Austin let loose a furious curse; and Tora Jens aimed her phaser and fired at the middle of his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter and a short epilogue to follow very soon, and I promise this is the last cliffhanger I'll leave you on!


	22. In the End

There’s just one thing that I’ve been dreaming of  
The way we did before  
Holding hands and the like  
Who’d say that this was the end?  
The Jezabels, _The End_  


* * *

  
  
**_Chapter Twenty-One: In the End_**  
_October, 2379_  
  
  
Harry Kim was no stranger to being shot. Or dead, for that matter, although this time he’d apparently managed to escape that fate.  
  
Usually, though, when he came around after a near-fatal injury, he woke on a bio-bed to the beeping of medical instruments and the acerbic tones of _Voyager_ ’s EMH. This time he woke alone, on a cold, dirty floor, to the sounds of desperation.  
  
“Kathryn, can you hear me?” It was Chakotay’s voice, cracked and urgent, with an edge of barely-repressed fear. Then, clearly addressing somebody else: “What are you doing?”  
  
“I’m trying to help her,” answered a woman whose voice Harry vaguely recognised; she sounded strained. “Please, Captain, I need to concentrate …”  
  
With effort, Harry propped himself on one elbow to see what was going on, and groaned aloud at the bright agony the movement produced in his shoulder.  
  
A moment later, Seven was crouched at his side. “Harry,” she breathed, then eased him gently to a sitting position. She quirked a smile at him. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”  
  
“Me, too.” Harry squeezed her hand, winced, and tried to straighten up. “Is that Admiral Janeway’s aide?”  
  
“Yes. She is attempting to stabilise the admiral’s condition.”  
  
Harry frowned; it looked to him like the young lieutenant had simply placed her hands on Janeway’s head. “Want to fill me in?”  
  
Seven’s smile faded. “Admiral Janeway has been shot. Captain Tuvok and Mr Miles are on their way to our position, but I believe they have encountered a number of enemy combatants en route.”  
  
“And her?” Harry gestured at the lieutenant. “How did _she_ get here, and how exactly is she stabilising the admiral’s condition? I don’t see a medkit.”  
  
“Lieutenant Jens was on _Voyager_. I believe Mr Miles transported her to the _Alpha Flyer_ without our knowledge, and then to the biosphere at the same time we did.” Seven paused. “As to your other question, the lieutenant is part Deltan. She has the ability to reduce pain and ease minor ailments through touch telepathy.”  
  
Harry blinked.  
  
“It is a long story.” Seven quirked a smile at him as she helped him to his feet.  
  
He was still dizzy and weak from the disruptor blast, leaning heavily on Seven as they stumbled slowly toward the trio on the floor. A few metres away from them lay the body of Ryan Austin. Harry didn’t need to ask if he was dead; the man was on his back, his eyes staring vacantly upward, the tell-tale signs of a full strength phaser blast blackening the middle of his chest.  
  
Chakotay was on his knees, Janeway cradled carefully in his arms and clearly unconscious; there was a hole singed in the bodice of her dress and Harry could see burnt and bloody skin through the tear. Tora Jens knelt beside them, her hands gentle on Janeway’s skull. She was pale and trembling.  
  
“I can’t help her,” she whispered, eyes rising to meet Chakotay’s. “There’s too much damage to her neural pathways.”  
  
Harry felt for his combadge. “Kim to _Alpha Flyer,_ ” he said. “We need an emergency beam-out.”  
  
The reply came encased in the crackle of interference. ~I’m taking fire from some kind of automated weapons platform,~ Tom shouted. ~Can’t drop shields. _Voyager_ should be in transport range in five minutes. Can you hold out until then?~  
  
“I guess we don’t have a choice. Kim out.”  
  
As he spoke, Janeway’s body arched sharply, then began to convulse.  
  
“She’s going into shock,” Tora Jens exclaimed.  
  
There were tears in Chakotay’s eyes, Harry saw, as the captain tried to hold Janeway’s seizing form steady. “We need to get her out of here,” Chakotay said hoarsely.  
  
Hearing footsteps, Harry swung away from Seven, drawing his phaser, then slumped in relief as he recognised Tuvok and Jonah Miles. The man in black’s eyes scanned the room as he crouched beside Ryan Austin’s body, checked the councillor’s vital signs, and gave a brief nod of satisfaction at finding none.  
  
Tuvok moved immediately to the group on the floor.  
  
“Report, Lieutenant,” he said sharply, seeing that Chakotay was in no state to provide him with information.  
  
“She received a partial impact from Austin’s disruptor,” Jens told him. “But that’s not the problem. He’s been screwing with her head for too long. I can’t reverse the damage.”  
  
“Move aside,” Tuvok ordered. “I will attempt to invoke a healing trance. That should stabilise her until she can receive proper medical attention. Captain Chakotay, please support her head.”  
  
Chakotay tightened his arms around Janeway as Tuvok spread his fingers onto her temple, cheekbone and jaw.  
  
“My mind to your mind…”  
  
As he intoned the Vulcan chant, Janeway’s convulsions eased and her body gradually grew still, and then Harry felt the tingle of dematerialisation as _Voyager_ ’s transporter took hold, pulling them all to safety.  


* * *

 

> _CORRUPTION CHARGES: PRESIDENT UNDER FIRE AS MORE CONSPIRATORS EXPOSED_  
>   
>  _Federation News Service – Breaking News – PARIS, Stardate 56787.3_  
>   
>  _President Min Zife has stepped down from the Federation Council pending further investigation into his involvement with the recently exposed Entera Coalition. Several top-ranking Starfleet flag officers, including the newly appointed Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Nyla Kjogo, are facing indictment for conspiracy, collusion with a hostile race, inciting a conflict resulting in death and endangerment of Starfleet personnel, and perverting justice for personal gain, among other charges._  
>   
>  _As more details come to light, it remains to be determined how significant a role Admiral Kathryn Janeway played in these events. With her husband, Entera conspirator and Federation Councillor for Trade, Ryan Austin, having died recently under mysterious circumstances, and a silence order placed on all Starfleet personnel involved in these events until the charges can be heard and a judgement ruled, the former captain of_ Voyager _is the only one who can answer these questions. But, as Janeway remains comatose and in serious condition at Starfleet Medical, those answers may be some time in coming._  
>   
>  _In related news, Federation Councillor Nanietta Bacco has released a statement –_

Switching off the padd, Chakotay pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. Two weeks after the rescue mission to the Vana’diel Nebula and ten days since the news of the conspiracy broke, the media frenzy was showing no signs of dying down.  
  
He supposed it was to be expected: it wasn’t every day that the public learned of a merchant consortium with tentacles that extended into the political reaches of every superpower across two quadrants; or of the machinations of the Federation president and several admirals in the highest echelons of Starfleet; or of the scandalous involvement of the woman previously hailed as a hero for safely returning her crew from the other end of the galaxy.  
  
The very idea that the media and the public believed Kathryn Janeway was an instrumental part of Entera’s wrongdoings made him want to smash something. In fact, on more than one occasion he’d done exactly that; he was lucky that B’Elanna was keeping a close eye on him, and that Tom had, so far, held his tongue when Chakotay turned up with unexplained broken bones for the former medic to heal.  
  
Thanks to the gag order Admiral Taela Shanthi had placed on them immediately after her reinstatement as Starfleet Commander-in-Chief, he couldn’t even defend Kathryn’s reputation.  
  
He couldn’t tell everyone that, although Tal’aura’s plot to assassinate the Romulan senators had succeeded, it was thanks to Kathryn that Section 31 had forewarned the Tal Shiar, enabling them to capture Tal’aura, Shinzon and their co-conspirators before they could take control of the Empire.  
  
He couldn’t tell everyone that the plot to murder Chancellor Martok had been subverted thanks to Kathryn’s intelligence, or that Entera’s collaborators within the Starfleet ranks had been identified and almost as quickly arrested before further damage could be done.  
  
He couldn’t even tell everyone that Kathryn had suffered horribly at the hands of her husband, that she had turned herself from victim to hero in order to save the Federation from another devastating war, and that she had done so while believing that she was utterly alone.  
  
All he could do was sit by her bedside in the maximum security ward at Starfleet Medical, holding her hand and praying that she would once again beat the odds.  
  
Kathryn had been put in stasis as soon as they’d been beamed onto _Voyager_ , which, as the EMH informed Chakotay later, had saved her life. The disruptor blast she’d taken had luckily caused mostly surface injury, but it was the damage Ryan Austin had done to her neural pathways – the months of telepathic manipulation, the constant exposure to his pheromones – that presented the real danger. And only time would tell if it was permanent.  
  
Chakotay pushed up from the plush chair beside Kathryn’s bed – by now, he figured, it probably bore a permanent imprint of his ass – and stretched his back, listening to the crackle and pop of his spine. His stomach rumbled. It was past 1900 hours and he hadn't eaten since breakfast; between Starfleet’s debriefings, his continuing investigations for both Intelligence and Section 31, and spending his every spare moment staring at Kathryn’s pale, tranquil face and silently pleading with her to wake up, regular meals and exercise had become luxuries in his life.  
  
“How is she?”  
  
Startled, Chakotay turned to find Owen Paris standing just inside the room. “Admiral,” he acknowledged him, “I didn’t hear you come in.”  
  
Paris was looking down at Kathryn’s still form, his expression troubled. “Her story isn’t supposed to end like this,” he mumbled.  
  
“It won’t,” Chakotay told him flatly.  
  
Paris glanced up at him and smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “What’s her prognosis?”  
  
Chakotay shrugged. “The Doctor says she might never wake up, and even if she does there’s a strong chance she’ll never be the same. He says she could end up institutionalised for the rest of her life.”  
  
Owen Paris looked dismayed. “Like Austin’s first wife.”  
  
“But that’s not going to happen. This is _Kathryn Janeway_ we’re talking about.” Chakotay folded his arms and glared at the admiral. “This is the woman who singlehandedly stared down the Borg Queen, stopped a civil war in the Q Continuum and led her crew home in a tenth of the time it should have taken. She’s not going to end up in a psychiatric hospital, or lying on a bed being fed through a tube, because that’s not her fate. I believe that – I believe in _her_. And so should you.”  
  
By the time he’d finished speaking, Paris’ smile was genuine.  
  
“You’re right, Captain,” he answered, clasping Chakotay’s shoulder. “I have faith she’ll make a full –”  
  
He broke off at a faint sound from the bio-bed.  
  
Chakotay swivelled around so quickly he almost knocked the admiral backward. “Kathryn?” he said urgently, hurrying to her bedside. His eyes searched her face. “Kathryn, can you hear me?”  
  
Her fingers twitched, and he grasped them gently.  
  
“I’m here,” he whispered. “You can wake up now.”  
  
She drew in a sharp, shaky breath, blinked slowly and focused on him. “Cha-” her voice cracked and she swallowed visibly.  
  
Then she smiled at him and squeezed his hand.  
  
“Chakotay,” she said in a voice dusty from disuse. “You’re here.”  
  
“Of course I’m here,” he said, laughing through tears. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”  
  
“I’ll go get the Doctor,” Owen Paris mumbled, backing out of the room and wiping at his eyes surreptitiously.  
  
“Water?” Kathryn croaked pleadingly.  
  
Chakotay supported her head as she sipped through a straw, then, energy depleted, laid her head back on the pillow.  
  
“Thanks,” she whispered. “For being here.”  
  
“I told you,” he murmured, eyes drinking her in, cataloguing her clear blue eyes and the colour returning to her skin. “I’m not leaving you again.”  
  
“In that case,” she bit her lower lip, “there’s something I need to tell you.”  
  
He felt his heart double-thump in his throat and locked his eyes with hers. “What is it?” he asked, lifting her hand to press lightly against his mouth.  
  
“Our timing has always been so terrible,” she stalled, “and I don’t want to risk losing another chance …”  
  
“We won’t,” he stated. “This is our time. And I won’t lose you again.”  
  
A smile broke over Kathryn’s wan, tired face and lit it from within. “I love you,” she told him. “I’ve always loved you.”  
  
Chakotay could feel that he was beaming, though he could hardly see her through the tears in his eyes.  
  
“I love you, too,” he whispered, bending to brush her lips lightly with his. “I never stopped.”  
  
Then the Doctor bustled into the room and began barking at Chakotay to stand back and let him work, and hummed and hawed as he scanned his patient and checked her readings and finally pronounced her recovery well on the way to miraculous. And throughout, Chakotay and Kathryn, smiling and silent, never stopped looking at each other.  


* * *

  
  
_December, 2379 - Two months later_  
  
“Another cup?” Gretchen Janeway asked, smirking knowingly at her daughter as she raised the coffeepot.  
  
“Do you even have to ask? For _six weeks_ , that tyrant refused to allow me even one tiny espresso.” Kathryn held out her empty cup for her mother to refill. “I was on the verge of threatening to decompile his program.”  
  
“I’m sure the Doctor was just as pleased to discharge you as you were to be out of that hospital,” Gretchen chuckled. “What was it he said to me? Oh, that’s right … ‘I never imagined I’d treat a more difficult patient than Captain Janeway, but _Admiral_ Janeway leaves her for dust’.”  
  
Kathryn rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile. She’d been doing quite a bit of that lately – smiling. It felt good.  
  
Perhaps it had to do with knowing she was free. Free of her Starfleet duty until further notice; she’d been placed first on medical leave and then on the extended service leave Kjogo had denied her after _Voyager_ ’s arrival back in the Alpha quadrant. Her only official responsibility for now was mandatory counselling, and given the trauma she’d experienced over the previous two years, not to mention the seven before that, it was an obligation Kathryn was happy to fulfil.  
  
She was free of the public’s shocked and eager condemnation of her, too; the truth, albeit a sanitised version of it, had come out over the course of the judicial hearings, the deposing of the president and the revelation that Kathryn’s part in the debacle had placed her firmly on the side of the angels. Still, she was in no hurry to see her face splashed across the news channels again, especially as not everyone was so quick to accept her as a hero once more.  
  
More importantly, she was free of Nyla Kjogo’s iron-fisted control over her career, her social circle, her appearance, her _life_ , and free of the blackmail she had used to wield it.  
  
And free, most of all, of Ryan’s cruel manipulation of her, so insidious and overwhelming that she hadn't even realised how completely his influence had changed the way she saw her world, or herself.  
  
Probably, she admitted to herself, her reasons for smiling had something to do with Chakotay, too.  
  
She wrapped her hands around her coffee cup and inhaled the scented steam, eyes closing in pleasure. Idling away the morning at her mother’s kitchen table was a simple joy she’d almost given up longing for, and right now, she was making a point of enjoying life’s simple pleasures.  
  
Her mother, though, had other things on her mind.  
  
“The coffeepot is empty, Katie,” Gretchen declared, pushing up to her feet. “And besides, don’t you think it’s time you got dressed? They won’t wait for you forever.”  
  
Kathryn pretended to glare at her. “Of course they’ll wait. It’s not as if there’s going to be a wedding without me,” but at Gretchen’s snort, she sighed theatrically and pushed back her chair. “All right. Here’s hoping my new dress uniform still fits after all the home cooking you’ve been forcing on me.”  
  
Thirty minutes later, dress uniform impeccable, makeup flawless and hair twisted neatly atop her head, Kathryn firmly quelled the flutter of nerves in the pit of her stomach as she gazed up at the imposing dome of Cochrane Hall. _No reason for nerves_ , she counselled herself. _It’s just a wedding_.  
  
She skirted the building and headed for the rose garden behind it, the ornate double-height gate swinging open at her approach. A temporary forcefield, arching over the garden where the ceremony would be held, kept out the San Francisco chill. The long wooden benches either side of the aisle were decorated with hothouse flowers, and most of them were filled with people, some in formal clothing, some in Starfleet dress uniform.  
  
At the other end of the path by the flower-strewn lectern, broad-shouldered in his white uniform jacket, Chakotay turned from talking to the best man and caught sight of Kathryn, the words dying on his lips.  
  
His smile widened as she walked toward him.  
  
“Hi,” she said, grinning back at him, all nerves abated.  
  
“You look beautiful,” he told her. “And your timing is impeccable.”  
  
“Oh?” She looked up into his eyes. “How so?”  
  
Chakotay dipped his head to hers. “Because I’ve never married anyone before,” he whispered in her ear, “and if you hadn't shown up, I’d have had to perform the ceremony. Besides, the groom was getting anxious.”  
  
Smirking, he handed her a padd.  
  
“Harry asked me to remind you that he and Seven have opted for the civil marriage script, rather than the Starfleet form.”  
  
Kathryn rolled her eyes. “Does Commander Kim think I haven’t been paying attention?”  
  
“No, ma’am!” Harry Kim cut in, overhearing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –”  
  
“Relax, Harry.” Tom Paris clapped the groom on the back. “The admiral has done this before, you know.”  
  
“Once,” conceded Kathryn, smiling at him.  
  
“Well, I’d better go and let the bride know we’re ready to begin,” Chakotay said, turning to shake Harry’s hand. “And congratulations, Harry. I’m very happy for you both.”  
  
He clasped Tom’s hand too, leaned in to press his lips lightly to Kathryn’s cheek, and moved to one side of the pews to discreetly speak into his combadge.  
  
Moments later, Seven of Nine appeared at the far end of the aisle, elegant in white silk, flanked by her Aunt Irene and her newfound cousin, Tora Jens. Kathryn watched Harry Kim straighten his shoulders and break into a beaming smile as they drew near.  
  
“Ready, Commander?” she murmured to him.  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered fervently as Seven arrived at his side.  
  
“In that case,” Kathryn grinned, and raised her voice a little, “as your former captain, it’s my honour and my pleasure to join two of the finest people I’ve ever known in marriage …”  


* * *

  
  
Chakotay would have been content just to watch her for hours, just to stand at her left shoulder and drink her in as she talked and smiled and laughed. Seeing Kathryn so happy, so carefree, surrounded by people who loved her, was everything he’d wanted for her since those early days in the Delta quadrant when he first realised he was falling for her, and it had been far too long in coming.  
  
But having the freedom to take her in his arms, to dance with her, to hold her close in a cluster of their friends and family … That was a dream he’d almost given up on years before, and now it was within reach.  
  
And Chakotay had no intention of screwing it up this time.  
  
Throughout her recovery and since she’d been discharged from Starfleet Medical he had stayed at Kathryn’s side, but he’d been scrupulously careful not to pressure her in any way. He was well aware that she’d been advised by her counsellor not to rush into any intimate relationships; that she needed to work on healing from the ordeal Ryan Austin had put her through.  
  
She’d had to learn to trust again after suffering constant betrayals, not only from her husband but by Starfleet. She could hardly bear to be in the same room as Admiral Shanthi, who had known the secret of Ryan’s genetic heritage all along. The fact that Shanthi had been the one to assign Tora Jens to protect her did little to negate the fact that the Commander-in-Chief had been willing to sacrifice Kathryn’s sanity – even her life – for the sake of bringing down Entera. And knowing that Shanthi was one of the key players in Section 31 didn’t improve Kathryn’s opinion of her, either.  
  
She had found it difficult to come to terms with the existence of the covert agency, with the fact that her aide had been working for them, with Chakotay’s double-agent status and even with the fact that her mentor, Owen Paris, had known of 31’s existence all along. With so many Starfleet officers entrenched in the workings of Section 31 and so many others revealed to be corrupt, Kathryn had been left with very few illusions about the organisation she’d dedicated her life to serving.  
  
It was a large factor in her decision to take an extended leave of absence from Starfleet; she had even mentioned to Chakotay that she was considering resigning from the service. She had been offered a fellowship with the Daystrom Institute – twelve months studying an interphasic dark matter nebula located in the Gamma quadrant – and she was thinking about accepting it as a civilian scientist instead of a Starfleet researcher.  
  
He wondered what a year’s separation might mean for the two of them, if Kathryn decided to accept the fellowship.  
  
Then again, he hadn’t expected the mission Admiral Shanthi had offered him yesterday. He hadn’t accepted it yet, either, but depending on Kathryn’s decision, they might not be spending the next year apart after all.  
  
But, as with the current slow progression of their relationship, he had no intention of pushing her into a decision.  
  
They left the wedding reception in the early afternoon and transported back to Indiana, where they found a note from Gretchen telling them she’d been invited to New York for the weekend. Changing into jeans and thick sweaters, they set out on one of the aimless, rambling tours of the farm that Kathryn insisted on daily. Snow was thick on the ground and the sky was leaden. Kathryn looped her hand into the crook of Chakotay’s elbow and pressed close to his body for warmth. Eventually, circling back toward the farmhouse, they slowed to a stop.  
  
“You’re quiet today,” she remarked, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Something on your mind?”  
  
“Only good things,” he assured her.  
  
“I’m pleased to hear that,” Kathryn murmured, turning to face him. She lowered her eyelashes. “I’ve been thinking about good things, too.”  
  
“Oh?” Chakotay spread his fingers on her lower back, easing her closer, and noted with interest the way her breath caught and her lips parted. “Something you want to share with me?”  
  
“Why don’t you take me home and find out?”  
  
Chakotay clenched his jaw to quell his instant reaction at the sultry undertone in her voice. Kathryn was a flirt; it was a truth he’d long since known and loved about her, but it did test his self-control at times. Especially as, since their night on Ajilon Prime, he had to contend with memories, not just fantasies.  
  
Kathryn had been looking up at him from under her lashes, but at his continued silence she dropped her gaze and eased herself out of his arms.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she said so quietly he hardly heard her. “I thought …”  
  
“What?”  
  
She was silent for a long moment, then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.  
  
“I think I’ve been reading more into our friendship than you want from it.” She gave him a rueful smile. “And I should know better than that, Chakotay. I spent years refusing to talk to you about –” she gestured vaguely – “what was between us, or could have been, and it’s why we grew so far apart during that last year in the Delta quadrant. So I’m going to be honest with you now.”  
  
“Kathryn,” he interrupted, but she held up a hand.  
  
“Please let me say this,” she begged. “You’re my best friend, and you’ve proved that a hundred times over these past few weeks, and it’s not your fault I’ve been … hoping … you might feel something more for me. I know you love me, but I …” she bit down on her lip and he saw tears on her lashes, “I don’t think you mean it in the same way I love you. And that’s okay. I can live with it, as long as you’re in my life.”  
  
She was staring at the ground now, her words tumbling faster as though her courage was failing her.  
  
“That night on Ajilon,” she mumbled, “I know it didn’t mean … what I hoped it meant … but I’ll never forget it. And I hope that won’t make things awkward between us, because I don’t want to lose your friendsh-”  
  
“Kathryn,” he couldn’t bear it a moment longer, “please stop talking,” and he took her face in his hands and kissed her.  
  
Kissed her until she was clinging to him, gasping, her breath gusting between parted lips; until he could feel the thundering of her heart in time with his own. Kissed her until he couldn’t remember anything but her taste and the way she felt in his arms, until the soft, low sounds he was pulling from her throat drove him to distraction.  
  
Kissed her until he was dizzy from lack of air, at which point she let her head tip back and looked at him through glazed, half-open eyes, her lips red and swollen and her body pliant in his hold.  
  
He had to swallow twice before he could speak.  
  
“When I said I love you, Kathryn,” he said roughly, “I didn’t mean only as a friend. And I can assure you that you’re not reading anything into my feelings that isn’t there.”  
  
Her teeth dented her lower lip. “I’m starting to understand that,” she admitted, voice husky, and then she smiled that slow, curling, brilliant smile that made his knees weak.  
  
“So,” he grinned back at her, “about taking you home…”  
  
She slipped her hand into his and started walking backward, tugging him along with her. “What are you waiting for?”  
  
His only answer was a growl, provoking her shriek of laughter as he lunged for her and swept her up in his arms.


	23. Ahead and Away

We made plans to kiss the sun at night  
Hopeless dreamers, hopeless types  
One was turning, one was standing still  
I won't forget what was promised here  
Birds of Tokyo, _Plans_  
  


* * *

  
**_Epilogue: Ahead and Away_**  
 _February, 2380_  
  
  
Two years after she’d stopped calling a starship home, Kathryn still found it a novelty to wake to sunlight.  
  
She blinked sleepily and turned her face toward the window. It promised to be another scorching day on Trebus, but for now, gentle morning warmth filtered through the half-opened blinds and kissed her bare skin. She stretched luxuriantly, her lips curving into the smile that was never far away these days.  
  
Beneath the sheet, a large hand skimmed lightly from her hip, over her stomach and onto the undercurve of her breast, and Kathryn found herself arching, eyes wide.  
  
“Oh,” she said, breathless, and turned into Chakotay’s kiss.  
  
His mouth moved languidly over hers and she curled a hand around his neck to pull him close, pressing herself into his roaming hands. Her lips parted, her tongue wrapping around his; her breath came in short, fractured gusts. Chakotay guided her onto her back and moved between her legs. One hand curled around her breast, his thumb rubbing her nipple into a tight peak; the other hand pushed beneath her body, his fingers spreading around the globe of her ass as he hardened against her.  
  
A rush of heat suffused her, tingling at the points of her nipples and her suddenly tender clit. She twined her fingers into his hair to hold him to her and heard him chuckle as he eased back for air.  
  
“Good morning,” came his roughened voice against her ear.  
  
“It is now,” she murmured, her grin widening at his sharp intake of breath as she reached down to curl her fingers around him. “Do we have time for this?”  
  
“You have somewhere better to be?” he growled.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know, Captain.” Kathryn wriggled beneath him, spreading her thighs around his hips. “Seems like there might be something important happening today. Shouldn’t you be –” she broke off to gasp as his hard length dragged along her folds, the head of his cock rubbing her in _exactly_ the right spot.  
  
Chakotay dipped his head to nip at her jawline. “Shouldn’t I be … what?”  
  
“Doing exactly what you’re doing,” she almost moaned as he thrust slowly, unerringly against her.  
  
She was liquid and needy, ready for him. Her lower belly knotted, her hips tilting helplessly to meet the slick push and slide of him against her. And still he didn’t enter her; still he teased her, holding himself back, mouthing at her neck and her collarbones until a frustrated moan rattled in her throat.  
  
“Something you want, Kathryn?” he murmured, and bit gently at her nipple.  
  
She hissed through her teeth. “You know what I want.”  
  
Chakotay sucked her nipple into his mouth and she shuddered, nails biting into his shoulder. He flattened a hand between their bodies and slid it down until his fingers grazed her nub – she whimpered, arching into him – and curled just inside her, making both of them groan.  
  
“You’re so wet,” he marvelled.  
  
“Don’t make me wait,” she rasped, “please, Chakotay …”  
  
But instead of moving up to cover her, he shuffled further down the bed and gently pressed her thighs apart. She held her breath as he dipped his tongue to her, as he drew it lightly, lusciously along her folds and curled the tip around her clitoris.  
  
Kathryn shuddered, desire clenching her stomach and rounding her mouth into a silent O.  
  
Apparently satisfied with her reaction, Chakotay’s dimples appeared briefly before he bent to lick at her again, lavishly this time. She inhaled sharply. He repeated the action, simultaneously crooking his fingers inside her, and she arched her neck and moaned.  
  
Chakotay sucked her clit into his mouth as he rubbed his fingertips against the roughened nerves inside her front wall and Kathryn cried out, hips bucking, spine bowed and twisted as he kept her on the keen edge of her peak for what felt like minutes, before gentling her down, stroking her quivering thighs and kissing her stomach.  
  
She was still shivering, languid with the force of her climax, when he raised his head to grin at her.  
  
He looked immensely pleased with himself, she thought, clumsily tangling her fingers in his hair, and had to admit that he had every right.  
  
“Come here,” she half-slurred, tugging at his hair, and watched his pupils blown dark as he shifted up to lie beside her.  
  
She wrapped her palm around his cock and smiled at his soft groan and the way he thrust involuntarily into her hand.  
  
“Something you want, Chakotay?” she purred, parroting his earlier teasing.  
  
He moved over her, between her thighs, leaning up on his elbows as he smiled into her eyes.  
  
“Just you,” he answered. “Only you.”  
  
It disarmed her, taking them instantly from playful to tender, and she pulled him down to kiss him as she wound her legs around his hips and welcomed him inside her. He ground into her and she squeezed around him, and they surged and swelled together until he shuddered, his rhythm faltering.  
  
He opened desperate, dark eyes. “I can’t – are you close?” he pleaded.  
  
In answer she wet the tips of her fingers with her tongue and held his gaze as she lowered them to press and circle against her clit, the stimulation making her eyes close and her mouth drop open.  
  
Chakotay groaned, bending to capture her lips, his tongue seeking and curling around hers, his hips grinding into hers fiercely. She felt him tremble, losing his control an instant before her own shattered. Then he was burying his face against her neck and wrapping his arms around her, careful not to lean his weight on her while he wrestled back his breath.  
  
Finally he lifted his head to look at her, a soft smile on his lips. “I love you,” he said.  
  
“I figured,” she grinned.  
  
He laughed, bending to nip at her jaw. “You’re trouble.”  
  
“Oh, you’re just now figuring this out?”  
  
Chakotay snorted, rolling onto his back and bringing her with him; she landed against his chest, her long hair falling around them. “I’m not sure this is going to work,” he teased her, “you serving on my ship, even as a civilian scientist. How am I supposed to keep you in line?”  
  
“ _Your_ ship?” Kathryn widened her eyes in mock outrage. “I’m pretty sure that captain’s chair is still perfectly moulded to the shape of _my_ behind, thank you very much.” She sat up, rolling her hips against him to make him suck in a breath. “But since you asked, I think I’ve just proved I can serve under you …”  
  
His answering laughter was rich and delighted as he cupped her face in his hands and pulled her back down to kiss him again.  
  


* * *

  
  
Despite their banter, they had already discussed at length how their mission would work.  
  
Kathryn had chosen to accept the Daystrom Institute’s offer of a civilian fellowship. She hadn't resigned from Starfleet, but she had informed the Commander-in-Chief that she would do so without hesitation if she wasn’t granted an extended leave of absence. Fleet Admiral Shanthi had eventually conceded on the proviso that Kathryn kept her silence about the existence of Section 31 and its part in unmasking the Entera Coalition.  
  
Chakotay, for his part, had been ordered to assume the captaincy of _Voyager_. His first mission was to take the ship through the Bajoran wormhole to ferry supplies to the Federation outposts newly established in the Gamma quadrant, explore the realms of space not claimed by the Dominion, and study several astronomical peculiarities, including an interdimensional dark matter nebula in the Rakhari sector which was of particular interest to the Daystrom Institute.  
  
He knew Kathryn had thought carefully before agreeing to the mission. It wasn’t that she expected to have difficulty taking orders from him, exactly; it was the idea of being on _Voyager_ and not being in command – of not even being a serving member of Starfleet – that had given her pause. But in the end, she had decided that two years’ distance from the centre chair, not to mention everything she’d been through during that time, was enough to help her make peace with it.  
  
Besides, she’d told Chakotay, she wasn’t at all eager to wave him off on a year-long adventure without her, or to be so long apart from him.  
  
It had been a conversation with Tora Jens that convinced Kathryn that accepting the Daystrom Institute’s offer was the perfect solution. Tora had confessed to her that Shanthi wanted Kathryn to remain a Section 31 agent, and if Kathryn remained in the Alpha quadrant she’d likely be conscripted into further missions for the covert agency. After two years under the sway of Nyla Kjogo and Ryan Austin, Kathryn was in no hurry to submit to further manipulation.  
  
She’d avoided Jens for weeks after the rescue in the Vana’diel Nebula, still furious with the lieutenant for the secrets she had kept, until Chakotay had reminded her that Jens had been under orders, and that the young woman was dealing with her conflicted emotions over fatally shooting Austin. As much as Tora detested Ryan for destroying her mother’s life and for everything he’d orchestrated since then, he’d still been her father, and with her newfound cousin Seven leaving with Harry on a two-year exploratory mission to the Beta quadrant, Tora had admitted to Chakotay that she felt adrift and disconnected.  
  
He’d suggested she spend time at the Vega Colony getting to know her other living relatives and meeting her mother for the first time – even if Maja Hansen was unable to understand who Tora was – and then he’d offered her a job as his tactical chief on _Voyager_. Grasping the chance for a fresh start, and with Kathryn’s blessing, Jens had accepted.  
  
Chakotay had wasted no time in securing his first officer and helmsman, as well as the rest of his senior staff, in readiness for the voyage to the Gamma quadrant. First, though, he and his new scientific attaché had seized the opportunity to be together as just Chakotay and Kathryn, with no rank, duty or unkind circumstances to separate them. They’d kissed on bridges in Venice and made love under the stars in the Arizona desert, and finally, had hopped a civilian transport to the Dorvan system.  
  
Now, he stood before the mirror and eyed his reflection critically, wondering if two weeks of Sekaya’s fine home cooking had padded all the wrong places on his physique.  
  
“You’re gorgeous, and you know it,” came a dry voice from behind him, and then a pair of slender arms wound around his waist and Kathryn stretched up on tiptoe to close her teeth lightly around his earlobe.  
  
“Do that again and this uniform is coming off,” he growled, “and I don’t think my crew would be too impressed if their captain called in late because he was busy being seduced by the mission’s head scientist.”  
  
He turned to take her in his arms, drinking in her wide smile, her softly pulled-back hair, her slight form draped in a shade of blue that almost matched her eyes.  
  
“Speaking of gorgeous,” he murmured, and bent to kiss her, his lips parting hers until she sighed and clung to him.  
  
~ _Voyager_ to Captain Chakotay.~  
  
Chakotay pulled back slowly as Kathryn lowered her heels to the floor. He tapped his combadge. “Chakotay here. Go ahead, Commander.”  
  
~We are in orbit of Trebus and ready to beam you and the admiral aboard at your convenience, sir.~  
  
“Thank you, Commander,” Kathryn cut in, “but for the duration of this trip, please address me as Professor Janeway,” she paused, “or Kathryn, if you like.”  
  
~My apologies, Professor. Are you ready to transport?~  
  
“We’re ready,” Chakotay replied. “Standing by.”  
  
The turbolift ride from the transporter room to _Voyager_ ’s bridge was almost surreal, and from the way Kathryn squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, Chakotay realised she felt it, too. He squeezed her hand lightly, only letting go when the ‘lift doors opened.  
  
He almost stood back, held position behind Kathryn’s left shoulder to allow her to step out ahead of him, but she shook her head slightly with a rueful smile, indicating he should precede her.  
  
“Captain on the bridge,” announced Tora Jens from the tactical station as Chakotay strode down to the command level.  
  
He waited until Kathryn had taken the newly installed observer’s seat beside him before he spoke.  
  
“Thank you, Commander Sereni,” he addressed his first officer, then turned to the helm. “Lieutenant Trabin, set course for the Bajoran system. Warp five.”  
  
“Aye, Captain,” the young lieutenant replied.  
  
Chakotay settled into his chair, feeling the strangeness of it, the rightness. He glanced to his right, where Kathryn was smiling at him.  
  
“Course laid in, sir,” Trabin informed him.  
  
“All right, then,” Chakotay said. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it - all done!
> 
> I'm thinking about a sequel, because I'm crazy, but it'll be a while in coming.
> 
> Special thanks to Helen8462 who betaed this entire monster, start to finish, and to LittleObsessions and Caladenia who also gave me some wonderful guidance and support.
> 
> And thank you all, times infinity, for reading, reviewing and hopefully enjoying. <3


End file.
